


Fostering The Advance

by TwoCatsTailoring



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Drama, F/M, First Person, Humor, Incomplete, M/M, Multi, Other, Romance, Yuffentine, tide - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-24
Updated: 2016-09-24
Packaged: 2018-08-17 02:25:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 37
Words: 79,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8126842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwoCatsTailoring/pseuds/TwoCatsTailoring
Summary: Set post-Dirge of Cerberus. Life moves on and people change. Sometimes it's funny, sometimes it isn't. No happy endings because it's never really the end, is it?All in first person and the person talking is in the chapter title. Because I suck at naming chapters.UPDATE: When I first started my ao3 account, I'd been out of fandom for over a decade. AO3 was pretty new to me, and I didn't know how chapters worked. So this posting is just to collect all those sundry chapters together the way they are meant to be. Nothing has changed.UPDATE: I'm not going to write any more of this series. I've just lost interest in it.





	1. Tifa - 1

When you look back and try to pinpoint that pivotal moment when everything changed, sometimes it can be a challenge. You look around sometimes and wonder, “How did I get here?” And sometimes, it just isn't that clear – that WHEN and WHERE.

But, I can tell you that for me everything changed during the Deepground situation. No wait. That's not right.

Everything stayed just how it had been.

I changed during Deepground. It was MY mind and MY heart that changed.

Or maybe I already had changed those things, and I only just realized it the night that Cloud and I got Marlene and Denzel tucked snug in their beds as far from harm as we could get them. Deepground was crawling all over everywhere, so nowhere was really safe. But that night as I stared at the sky over Cosmo Canyon, something in me let go.

I let go of wanting Cloud to love me. I let go of any hope and in truth, any desire for us to be anything more than the rag-tag family we had become. I will admit that I cried. It hurt to let go of something that I had wanted for so long, tried so hard to build. I cried until I fell asleep outside under those stars.

I was SO happy when Reeve called a couple of days later and wanted our help with the ground assault on Midgar.

Everybody knows how that turned out, so I'll skip that retelling. Barrett and I went back to Cosmo Canyon, stayed a few days, then got the kids and came home.

I had time to think then. Yuffie came and stayed one two weeks and a day, finer details can be hers to tell. But it was in that first week that Rude started coming to Seventh Heaven alone.

He and Reno usually turned up once a week by habit. Usually Thursday nights because the truck with new alcohol and food arrived on Thursday morning. But they would show up, Reno weeping into his drink because of something haughty and privileged that Rufus had done while Yuffie pretended to get drunk with him, agree completely that Rufus was a scumbag, and steal all of Reno's Materia. Rude would drag Reno home about an hour before last call, then come back for the Materia and a shot of Bourbon before leaving a stupidly big tip and saying good night.

But that first week after Omega, Rude came alone. I didn't ask where Reno was – it was a relief to not have to listen to him whine. And Rude just came in, had two shots of Bourbon, tipped double and left. Each night thereafter, he came in earlier and left later. Before the week was out, he was offering to stay and help close up.

With Yuffie on the verge of insanity and next to useless, who was I to look a gift chocobo in the mouth? Every night thereafter, Rude was there until the small hours of the morning, big bald man in a black suit, sweeping my floors or wiping down tables.

And unlike with Cloud, the silence from him was comfortable. He'd never had much to say, but I found his quiet restful. He wasn't waiting for anything, wanting anything. He wasn't brooding. Just quiet.

We'd been trying to decide What to Do About Vincent all week. Well, Barrett, Cid, and I had been trying. Cloud was all for leaving him alone. Yuffie was in a STATE as days wore on. Shelke finally got elected to go get him.

Why Shelke? Well, we all knew he was in that cave. Shelke had all the information from Lucrecia and we sort of figured that maybe she would have the best luck getting him home. I still don't know if sending her was brilliance or stupidity.

A week later, Shelke came back alone. Rude was there when she told us that Vincent was fine, he just needed to, “Settle a few things,” before he came back. She couldn't tell us anything else except that she was going to go to WRO HQ, talk to Reeve, and start trying to get her sister back.

Yuffie heard all this with us and didn't take it well. She showed some restraint though. She waited until Shelke was at least a block away before screaming like a dying snow witch, racing up the stairs, and coming back down in record time with Conformer in hand.

I love Yuffie dearly. She's the sister to me that nature couldn't provide. She knows ALL my secrets – even the ones about Cloud being a sloppy kisser and a boring lover. But neither before that moment, I have never been afraid OF her. I had been afraid FOR her for years (so young to have carried a torch for him for so long.) But not before or since had I been so coldly terrified of what I saw on her face.

It breaks my heart to remember now – that hot anger, the dull of pain, the look of someone broken in to a million pieces and wanting to break the entire world so that everything would feel okay again. And so mad at herself for all of it.

So then it was my turn to be in a STATE. But, I'm better at functioning in a state of high agitation. I opened the bar while Cid and Cloud went on a Yuffie hunt. Rude never left the bar. I don't remember him leaving it for the four days Yuffie was gone. He played bouncer, cook, and bartender all in turn and seldom said a word.

On day three, I asked him why he was still there. His answer threw me for a loop.

“You need me. If you need me, I'll be here.”

And went right back to washing dishes. I cracked then. Sat down on the floor and laughed until I had the hiccups and tears were falling down my face and my sides hurt.

When I told Yuffie about it later, she just giggled and said, “It was the strain, you know?”

And it was. I had had about two and a half weeks of not actively trying to be something to Cloud that I never would be. I'd lost sleep over Yuffie for two weeks. Then she'd up and left without a word (strangled cries are not articulate speech) to Leviathan knew where. And here was this bald guy in a crappy SUIT standing in my kitchen, washing dishes with his sunglasses still on at 1am telling me that if I needed him, he'd be here.

It was the strain, you know?

But my freaking out laughing all over the floor didn't seem to phase Rude. He just poured me a glass of wine, helped me up off the floor, and sent me to bed. I slept like the dead that night. First time in a long time that I had been so blissfully unaware of anything at all.  
The next afternoon, Rude showed up again. He was there when Yuffie straggled in the back door covered in mud, blood, and monster goo. He opened Seventh Heaven for me that day while I listened to Yuffie and got her cleaned up.

And it was Rude who slipped up the steps and crooked his finger at me to get me to leave her for a minute. It was Rude who whispered to me, “In the storeroom. Go now.”

And it was Rude who walked in to that room, with that raggedy little ninja and stalled, covered for my absence asking her if she wanted food, or drink, or anything.

And it was Rude who kept me in check the rest of the night – making me stay in the kitchen as cook so that my friends wouldn't see the thunderstruck excitement written all over my face at the fact that it had been Vincent waiting for me in the storeroom. And he'd asked for two things. Twenty four hours of my silence about him being back. And Yuffie's location.

And it was Rude who distracted the entire barroom breaking every bottle on the back bar so that Vincent could slip up the stairs unseen.

It finally occurred to me then that maybe Rude meant more than just the words he'd said. I started to wonder if maybe it was less about need....


	2. Yuffie - 2

It must have been somewhere between the Northern Crater and Midgar that I made up my mind. Plenty of ground to cover there, so there was plenty of time. Like I needed much time to think about it. It wasn't a hard decision or anything, by that point it seemed like a logical progression.

He would have liked that, logic. Brainy stuff. Big words.

But I didn't really realize I'd decided anything until Meteor was crashing into Midgar, stuff is coming apart EVERYWHERE and he was racing back up to the top of that stupid set of steps. Then I had this crazed thought flash through my head - “SAVE HIM! He's yours! Go get him!”

Everything from that point on was just me tying to figure out what to DO about this conclusion. I had to go back to Wutai, and that went over like a ShinRa's space program. So for a couple of years, I just didn't think about it at all.

And that is the biggest lie of my life. He was my first thought every morning and my last every night. And up until the Geostigma got really bad, he was a mega-huge percentage of every thought in between. So the truth of the matter is that for a couple of years, I did nothing but think about him and go off killing things when I got mad 'cause I couldn't figure out what to do about it.

But Wutai was awful, so after everyone got all better after Geostigma and Sephiroth's whatever-the-hell-that-was, I just stayed in Edge.

Well, mostly in Edge. I flitted between Edge and Kalm. I would stay in Edge until I got antsy, then I'd take off to Kalm and.

Well, I had no idea what I was doing every time I showed up on Vincent's doorstep in every kind of weather. But he always let me in and that was a plus. I don't know what I was doing, but I knew I wanted to be where ever he was for as long as he would let me.

And for roughly a year, we did this weird dance. I'd show up, stay until he told me to go home. He would put up with me until I broke something or until my mouth got on his nerves. Back and forth. The last time I was in Kalm, he let me stay for a month. A month of nothing-in-particular, plenty of silence, and I painted his bathroom. He made me leave when I nearly burned down the kitchen, though. Pretty solid reason I thought.

Tifa cornered me the night after I got back and wanted to know what was going on. She knew, of course. She knew that I had this THING for him. Poor Tifa, with her own problems with Cloud being blind as a bat or stupid or whatever he was. Back and forth with him over and over again, she never KNEW for sure what they were. One day, he's all over her the next he was looking right through her. But my sweet, good Tifa sat on my bed and grilled me for an hour, then lectured me for another hour about how it isn't healthy to just rock along never knowing for sure.

Anyone else, I would have slapped. Tifa, I just hugged. After all, she meant well and was only worrying because she loves me.

So when Reeve called me after Deepground crawled up from whatever ShinRa sewer they had been lurking in and started messing stuff up, I complained a LOT about not wanting to get involved, but really jumped at the chance to avoid any more talks that made me really sad. She knew that, Tifa knows everything. And Leviathan bless her, she didn't press.

So I helped where I could. And I did a pretty good job, too. Reeve sent me to ShinRa manor to intercept Vincent with some new information and that is when I found him, all dead-looking with a gaping hole in his chest and Miss Ugly Tail For A Skirt cackling with glee.

Thinking he was dead for good killed something in me. With him oozing blood all over me and that hole in his chest big enough to fit my fist into, I prayed. For the first time since I had left Wutai at the age of fifteen, I begged Leviathan to just save him. I kept thinking that I hadn't had enough time, please don't let him die.

And whether it was Leviathan who interceded or just the wacko genetic crazy stuff that Hojo did I didn't care. That hole closed, Vincent woke up, and I covered my tracks as best I could. Thankfully, I fell over and cracked my head so the streaks on my face from my tears I could hide as tears of pain.

I had never been so happy to be a klutz in my life. And never had I been so happy to be on a mission either. Subsequent cracks to the head excluded, of course.

I wish I knew why I tried so hard to hide my wanting him from him just then. I'd never bothered much about it before. All those weeks spent with him, he knew why I was there. He just never... DID anything about it. He only ever touched me for split seconds to pass the salt or pull me up off the floor when I fell over something.

I had told him once, I think on my third trip there. Just laid it out in small words over lunch one day. Or tried to.

“You know I come here for a reason, right?” I'd asked.

Vincent gave me a long look before he nodded once.

“I come here because I lo...”

“Yuffie.” He cut me off. “Don't.”

And I caved. I didn't finish what I was saying, just gave him my own long look and nod. I left that afternoon without him tell me to go. But within the space of a month, I was back at his house, giving him a hard time about keeping loaded guns around. He knew and he still let me in. I called it a start.

I had plenty enough to do there for a while with Reeve breathing down my neck for more and more information, so the few times I saw Vincent while he kept moving were short. War is a whirlwind, and there's not much time for anybody to think too hard about much of anything except where they are going next. The next time I had any time to actually talk to Vincent was once we were on the Shera with Cid.

Here's the interesting thing about the Shera. There is ONE room, right in the dead center of the ship that seems to not move around as much as the others. It is used for storage mostly but it is my favorite place on the whole airship. So once we got all the details sorted out of whens and wheres, I retreated there. Probably a half hour or so before we were all supposed to drop into Midgar, Vincent came by.

I knew something was wrong. He was twitchy. Take that in for a minute. Vincent. Twitchy. The guy who could sit so still that dust settled on him was twitchy. But he handed me four potions, two phoenix downs, and a couple of Mega-potions, then walked in and sat down on a box.

I was already high on adrenaline and maybe that coupled with concern over this twitch in his fingers and the sides of his mouth turned down a bit more than usual kickstarted that mouthy part of my brain and instead of saying what I wanted to say (“oh GAWD, what's wrong?!”) what came out instead was more like,

“It's really too bad you're allergic to me, Valentine. I've been told that making out with me can cure even the worst case of Emo Vampire Brooding.” One hand on a cocked hip and a smirk on my face.

And he just looked at me. I wanted to sink into the floor. Just melt through the floor and freefall into the nothing we were flying through. Ever been so mortified that your ears were ringing? Yeah. That was me right then.

And he kept looking at me as he stood up and headed towards the door. Once he'd passed me, I balled up a fist and hit myself in the head with it about ten times for being so STUPID. Hindsight again makes me wonder why it suddenly mattered – he had to be used to it by that point!

I heaved a sigh though. I had to be ready to jump out of an airship in fifteen minutes. So I turned to leave myself and got a face full of black leather and red fabric. I may have squeaked, but whatever sound I did make was cut off pretty quick when he kissed me.

Hot, hard, whirling me around to crush me against the door. His gauntleted hand – surprisingly warm to the the touch – grabbed a fist full of my hair while his other hand roamed between my hip and snaking under my shirt to cop a feel.

And I have to tell you that I decided then and there that I owed a debt of gratitude to whoever taught him how to kiss. Think houses on fire and eruptions of the Lifestream. Not a damn thing gentle, coaxing, or hesitant about Vincent Valentine when he's decided to kiss you. No, ma'am.

Volcanoes. TURK-based explosions.

Meteorfall.

I had never been kissed like that in my life. He stopped once, pulled back and looked at me with those eyes – gone all kinds of dark rusty red, nose flaring a little as he caught his breath. I just grabbed him by that crazy cloak of his and pulled him right back.

Best. Thirteen. Minutes. Ever.

“Yuffie! Loudmouthed brat! Where the ^#$@* are ya? You got two minutes before you either jump or get pushed!”

Stands to reason that it would be Cid – aggrivating old fart Cid – who would break up the party with his stupid PA system. Sometimes, I hate him. Not often, but in that moment I could have planted a knife in him happily. I tried to ignore him. I really did.

“ONE MINUTE YOU BRATTY LITTLE *%&$#!”  
Vincent dropped me on my feet as he hit the keypad to open the door. If I had a minute, he had two. One last glance and I caught the edge of his mouth quirk up for a fraction of a second. Then I took off at a run screaming at Cid not to be an old granny.

Things got strange after that. I dropped in right where I should have, Vincent didn't. The ground troops did not succeed in getting the reactors shut down. I met up with Tifa, Cloud, and Barrett and the four of us decided to separate and try to get deeper into Midgar. I later learned that Cloud and Barrett didn't make it far before Deepground completely blocked their path. Tifa made it to the ShinRa building before running out of supplies and getting a lift out from Reeve.

There are times still, in the darkest part of the morning hours just before dawn that I wake up in a pool of sweat having dreamed about Nero and his darkness again. I can't talk about it. It's too much, just too much.

 

Then came Omega. And that explosion. And a week of wondering if Vincent was alive or dead and where he was and if he'd come back.

And that's what everybody at Seventh Heaven talked about. All week long. Shelke showed up and seemed to think he would be fine. She rattled off a bunch of scientific sounding stuff that was nearly meaningless to me but amounted to Vincent probably being alive.

I admit it. The more days that passed, the antsier I got. Hearing that Vincent was probably alive was good, but it set me off on thinking about things like, “What if he comes back?” and “What if he never comes back?” and “Oh crap what am I gonna do if he comes back?”

When Shelke left to go find him, Tifa says I started to fidget. By the time Shelke came back alone, I was ready to explode. I was beyond caring about blowing through the whirling mass of mixed up fear, anger, frustration, regret, elation, worry, and hope.

“Vincent Valentine is alive and well. He wanted me to tell you all that he just has a few things to take care of. I can't tell you anything else.” And with those words, Shelke left to find Reeve and start trying to fix her sister.

I had to kill SOMETHING after hearing that. Anything big, evil, and with a high likelihood of killing me right back would be GREAT as far as I was concerned.

I spent four days tracking down and killing everything that I could remember from Mideel forest to Bone Village. I stopped at the City of the Ancients. I stopped where Aerith died and wept like a child. Then I went home the shortest way I could.

Tifa, bless her. She somehow roped Rude into running Seventh Heaven the night I got home. He's a pretty nice guy, that Rude. But Tifa helped me get cleaned up and asked quiet questions about where I had been and how long had it been since I slept. Then she listened to me ramble on and on, tired, distracted, still raw and spent from battle and running.

Her eyebrows went up when I told her that it was VINCENT who kissed ME, but she didn't say anything, just let me ramble and blather on and on. Some part of my fuzzy brain registered when she left and Rude asked me if I wanted anything. Then he went away and I heard this earth-shaking crash from the bar. I put the pillow over my head, too tired to even bother to get up to see what it was.

When I felt weight on the edge of the bed next to me, I was half asleep already.

“Go 'way, Tifa. Lemme shleep naow.”

“Pity then.” Not Tifa. Hum and warm honey over cold steel voice that played back in my head for nearly three weeks wondering if I would ever hear it again and if I did what words would I hear.

“Cause I kind of feel like talking to you.”

I was bolt upright and wide awake in no time flat nearly nose to nose with Vincent, red eyes clearer than I'd ever seen them before and him SMIRKING at me.

I did the only thing I could do. I punched him. Hard.


	3. Yuffie - 3

Okay, so maybe only logical to me, but it made me feel better.

“Ouch.” Still smirking, but not quite as much.

“I'm glad it hurt.” I ignored that smirk manfully and lit into him. “Where the hell have you been? Do you have any idea how worried I've – We've been about you? A phone call would have been nice! Or a text saying, NOT DEAD, SHOPPING FOR CAPES. Cause Shelke was about as helpful as a newborn Heal materia with her, “I can't tell you” crap! And let me tell you something, Mister Can't Be Bothered to Keep In Touch, you gave me... US quiwwwwaaahhhh.”

Stupid yawning and it's stupid interrupting before I could really get going telling him what I thought of him and his stupid eyebrow creeping up into his stupid headband thingy.

“Are you done?”

I started to spew more vitriolic nervous verbal diarrhea at him but was interrupted by another yawn. Stupid.

“I'll take that as a yes.” He stood up and started to unbuckle his cape-thing as he headed towards the chair in the corner on the other side of the bed. He dropped the cloak over the back of the chair and then plopped down it in. He sighed then started talking.

He started with scientific nonsense that I just Could. Not. Wrap my head around right then. The short version amounted to Protomateria back, Chaos gone, not a clue what all of that meant yet.

About the time that I thought my jaw was going to come unhinged from my endless yawning, he paused and told me that he'd asked Tifa for a twenty-four hour lead time to let any of our friends know he was back.

I'm pretty sure that the expression on my face was a whole lot of blurry-eyed, “'Kay, so what?” Because he just LOOKED at me and spelled it out in small words.

“I think we need to discuss a few things before that time frame has expired.”

Wide awake right then. WIDE AWAKE.

“Yeah?” Danger, danger! Sass your way out of this, Yuffie! “Like what?”

“There isn't a lot that I can give you right now. I'm not going to lie to you – I'm not in love with you. I can tell you honestly that I do feel more for you than is probably healthy or reasonable for either of us. I have no notion of how these things are done now, but....”

Oh, great. Sleep deprived, looking like I'd been chewed up and spit out, wide awake, sass denied, and Vincent Valentine had a line of pink creeping up his neck from under his collar and was looking at his hands.

I guess the smart-assed part of my brain had decided to go on to sleep or something because I just couldn't come up with anything properly sarcastic, snide, or brassy to say to him.

So instead, I opted for a feeble flap of one hand and what I thought was a pretty level-headed and responsible suggestion “... Just try it and see how it goes?”

“Hn.” This sound has always constituted a laugh from him, possibly since birth. One side of his mouth quirked up just a little and he stood up. “Sounds fair.”

I watched, all blurry and bubble-headed again with THAT little chat out of the way, as he took off his gauntlet and put it on the table beside the bed.

“Move over, Yuffie. I'm exhausted too.”

Well. “Hn,” indeed.


	4. Tifa - 4

I needed alcohol. Badly.

That was the first thought that I had the next morning when I woke up. As I got Denzel out the door to school, I wondered how on earth I was going to get everything we needed for opening that night. There was just not really a way for me to open Seventh Heaven. It was Wednesday and we would get a delivery the next day, but tonight there would be slim selection for my customers.

Then it hit me as I heard movement from upstairs. I didn't have to open at all. In fact, it would probably be better if I didn't. Vincent isn't one to enjoy a huge crowd of onlookers. I only had to keep my mouth shut about Vincent being here until 5:30 that evening, then I could call all of our friends and let them descend on the bar. And if I didn't open, I wouldn't have to be worried about serving customers from a pitiful selection.

I would only have to worry that I didn't have any of the favorite drinks for any of my friends.

Well, pints cost less than cases and were easier to come by. I left a note for Yuffie telling her my plan and headed out to pick the shelves of the liquor and cigar shop.

Cars are an odd sight in our part of Edge. There's just not money to keep up with the maintenance and petrol prices were through the roof right then. So everyone who was out on the street turned to look at the black limousine as it pulled up to the curb in front of Seventh Heaven.

I just rolled my eyes. Rufus ShinRa would never give up his ostentatious style. And as nice as Rude is, I had nothing to say to his boss.

When did I decide Rude was all that nice? He was a Turk. Turks and niceness are mutually exclusive, right?

I crossed my arms and waited for Rufus to get out and be a complete pain about whatever he wanted to be a pain about. But it wasn't Rufus who stepped out of the car, adjusting his cuffs.

It was Rude. And he got out of the driver's seat.

“Hey.” He nodded my direction.

“Hey yourself.” Was I smiling? Maybe more than Seventh Heaven needed alcohol.

Rude circled the car and stopped a few feet in front of me. “You coming or going?”

“Going actually.” I tried to level out my expression. “I'm not opening tonight due to... a private party. But I still need a few replacement bottles.”

“I'll buy. It's my fault you have to get more.”

Before he was even done talking, I was shaking my head and telling him that wasn't necessary. “Besides, I'm just getting what I absolutely need for this party. And there's plenty in the shipment coming tomorrow.” As an afterthought I added, “Thanks though.” And I started in the direction of Hu's Liquors.

Rude didn't move but waited until I was level with him before he just said, “I insist.”

“And I refuse. We are at a stalemate. So I'm going now.” He really was tall. And even at this distance, the fading scent of his aftershave was kind of nice.

Wait, what? I just walked on. I wasn't about to stick around and argue with him about anything. It was a silly thing to be talking about anyway. Aftershave be damned.

“Besides, I told you to distract the crowd. The fact that you did without asking any questions is repayment enough.” That covered that pretty well, and I hope ended his insistence.

He just shrugged and fell into step next to me. He jerked his head backwards in the direction of the bar. “Is the little Wutai girl doing okay?”

“She's fine.” I was beginning to be highly suspicious of this conversation. Turk. Asking polite questions. “Why do you care?” I tried to sound simply curious and not defensive.

Rude adjusted his tie and cleared his throat.

I stopped and put my hand on my hip. “If you are doing some sort of recon for Rufus...”

“I'm not here because Rufus wants me here.” He'd stopped a few paces ahead and turned back to face me.

I swept my free hand to the side in a 'Well?' gesture.

“You've been worried.” He looked down at the sidewalk for a second then adjusted his cuffs again. “I don't like to see you worry.”

“What is this about Rude?” I'd sort of had it. Enigmatic answers, long hours of his company with nearly no reason behind it, and uncharacteristic politeness were just three suspicious circumstances too many.

Uneasy friendship with the Turks or not, he was just acting weird.

He tugged at his tie a little and flushed in the sun.

“Your tie is fine. Your collar is fine too and so are your cuffs. Spit it out, Rude.”

I suppose he was looking at me, but his expression was unreadable. The sun caught his sunglasses just right and I couldn't see his eyes clearly enough to even hazard a guess.

“I know you have a tongue, so use it.” Oh no. That came out pretty cheeky. And those words plus cheeky attitude were dangerously close to sounding flirtatious.

He grinned at me, one side of his mouth sliding up to show the barest glint of tooth underneath. Crap. He thought I was flirting!

“Go to dinner with me, Lockhart.”

The nerve. The GALL. I gaped at him and gave a short, not-amused laugh. I crossed my arms over my chest again and asked, “Why would I agree to that?”

“Why not?” He was serious! Rude was asking me out and he was completely serious. “It'd be different.”

Different? He had a point. Time dragged on and occasionally people would pass by us standing there on the sidewalk in what must have looked like the strangest stand off in history me with my arms crossed and a look of incredulity on my face, him an impassive wall of black suit and sunglasses.

Finally, I said, “No.”

“Okay. I'll pick you up at 7 on Monday, then.” He started back to the limo.

“Hey! I said no. I'm not going out with you.” Was he deaf? His ears did lay nicely against his head, maybe they didn't work all that well.

He stopped when he got level with me and looked down at me, grinning from ear to ear. “And I heard yes. Monday. Seven.” He walked around the car and opened the door.

I was ready to punch him. Properly punch him. He'd been hanging around for weeks and being useful, but that didn't entitle him to ignore me.

“Lighten up, Lockhart.” He leaned on the roof of the limo. “I don't bite and it's just food. Turks honor.” He flashed me a smile again and was off before I could even say 'Screw you.'

I skipped the rest of my trip to get booze. I was so mad! I slammed the door of the bar so hard the glass rattled.

I walked int o my office and threw myself down on the couch. Yuffie was at the desk clicking through her email and looked up at me when I came in. I shot her my best what-the-hell look and said, “You are not going to BELIEVE what just happened!”


	5. Vincent - 5

There were two things that I had noticed upon regaining consciousness after the defeat of Omega. The first was that I was hungry. I had not felt hunger in more than thirty years and I was at first confused by the hallow ache in my abdomen. It did not take long to remember what would remedy that ailment.

It took a little longer for me to realize that I was going to have to sleep – truly, properly sleep now. I still did not need as much as my normal human counterparts, but the requirement of it was disconcerting.

I had spent a week alone before Shelke arrived at Lucrecia's cave at the request of my friends. She and I knew she'd been sent to fetch me because of Lucrecia's data in her mind. But before I was willing to return to them, I had questions I wanted real answers to.

Shelke excels at the use of technology to show you the information she wants you to have. She fares a little worse when trying to access that information and put it into words. It took a very long time for her to sort through the mass of data to find what I wanted to know.

I had suspected that Lucrecia's relationship with my father had been somewhat beyond the professional. Her reaction to my finding out they had been colleagues had been more emotional than was usual, even for her. At the time, I had pushed my suspicions out of my mind. She chose Hojo over me and my heart broke. I didn't think about anything beyond that.

I am not sure what I had expected of myself after Shelke had confirmed that Lucrecia and my father had been lovers. Usually, learning that a suspicion is correct carries some degree intense emotion. I did not experience that. I was hurt again, yes. But after all was said and done, nothing had changed. The only difference was that now I could better understand Lucrecia's motivations and reasoning.

Most of my thoughts on the subject ran along those lines. What changed other than my understanding of the whole situation? Not a thing.

But in the here and now, I had changed. What had haunted me for years – a sense of guilt for not protecting Lucrecia, for not stopping her, for not changing her mind – wasn't as powerful anymore. I had still failed her, I had still not done my job. But I could see now that it was not my sins alone that had caused years of destruction and pain.

Shelke left after a week. We had spent much of our time theorizing about my state of relative health, but ultimately come to the conclusion that without DNA research, there as just no way of knowing what my real situation was. I promised her that in exchange for a few more days of solitude, I would do my best to help her find a way to find Shalua. I did not think there was anything that could be done, but Shelke is tying. If she wanted to try, then I wanted to help her.

Her last words to me gave me much to think about.

“We can not change what has already been done, Vincent Valentine. Survival alone is wonderful. Now it is time to live.”

I could have shortened my trip back to Edge by calling Cid for a lift, but decided against it. Shelke was right. I owed my survival to Lucrecia, but I had to think about what I wanted to do with the life I had. In front of me. So I walked a lot of the way.

Setting off from Nibelheim, I was just going to meet friends. Taking the long way around to go meet my friends.

I did not expect to have company while I traveled. But every step, from the first one outside Nibelheim's gates to the last one into the hot kitchen of Seventh Heaven, Yuffie was with me. While I walked, my memories of her talked and laughed. While I slept, those same memories kept watch. She was never far from my mind if she ever really left it at all.

I will not lie. I had found her fascinating from the first time I saw her. She drove me insane in our first travels together so young and selfish. Her thievery angered me, but I could understand why she did it. She bested her own father at the top of the Pagoda without hesitation. She was hot-headed and passionate, then. She was so very different from anyone I had ever known with no thought of controlling her mouth or herself. Being in her presence was like being in the room with a noise that liked shiny things and tripped over nothing.

I went on my way after Sephiroth's initial downfall. I wandered. Yuffie had gone back to Wutai and I didn't hear anything from her for nearly a year. Cloud delivered one chatty letter from her during that time. It was clear from the tone of her letter that things were not going well for her at home, but she seemed to be handling whatever was wrong, so I didn't bother going to see her like she suggested.

By this point, the Geostigma was really beginning to make itself felt. A few cases here and there became a few hundred. Then a few thousand. Then many thousands. And most of them were children, young children born after ShinRa switched to power instead of manufacturing. The Lifestream was angry, poisoned and fighting back.

I will spare the gory details of patching up Tseng and Elena after their encounter with the Remnants in the Northern Crater. The Turks got what they were after there and the events after that are a matter of public record.

It was good to fight again. It felt good to fight with my friends again, the strange band of such different people who seemed to work so well together. I had given up trying to understand why it worked long before, but the dynamic still worked and it was nice to not fight alone again.

It took very little for me to realize that Yuffie was not the selfish, loudmouthed child she had once been. Still brash and fearless, but tempered with a better understanding of... something I wasn't sure of. She'd seen things traveling with us that a teen-aged girl really probably should not and she remained unchanged. But the events of the intervening two years had done something to sober her.

In the year she spent showing up at my house in Kalm unannounced she had touched on it in conversation, but never often or for long. And she would have to shake her head to clear the melancholy after every mention.

It didn't take me long to figure out that she was infatuated with me. And I was uncomfortable with it for a long time. But she kept showing up and I kept letting her in. I rationalized this by telling myself that she seemed to enjoy my company and having her here did no harm to anyone at all. I was not leading her on or offering her any affection, just company.

But Yuffie has a way about her. She can drive you to the point of wanting to hang her from the rafters, but she breathes positive energy, confidence, and brightness that make it very hard to stay mad at her for long. I started to get used to her being there. Then I started to miss her conversation when she was gone, because it wasn't mindless chatter anymore. I found she had a keen understanding of politics, diplomacy, and technology that made talking to her anything but a chore.

The last time I saw her, she stayed with me for a month. She seemed a little more thoughtful and took a lot more phone calls than on her previous visits, but I did not ask what was going on. She wanted to paint a room, so I let her pick the room and the color. She painted my bathroom lime green.

I really do not like lime green. But I told her it was fine and she was pleased. And I was happy because she was happy.

A couple of days after that, she set fire to the kitchen because she forgot about the pot of noodles she was boiling. All the water evaporated out and they caught fire. I had never been so relieved to have a reason to send her home.

Not long afterwards, Reeve called and wanted to meet for a chat. That was the night Deepground brought their hell to the surface. All of that is public record too, so I won't make an already long story longer.

Well. Maybe not all of is was public record. I bribed Reeve well to get him to leave out the part about Yuffie nearly missing the drop in to Midgar because I had her occupied elsewhere. That was of no concern to anyone except me and Yuffie. My motivation behind kissing her was simple – she offered and I found the thought of it anything but objectionable. If it got a little out of hand, then I gladly share blame for that with her.

I was not the only willing participant in the room.

Back to Edge I went, then after all was said and done. But in truth, I did not have a clue what I was going to do about the feelings I had for Yuffie until Rude stuck his head in to the kitchen from the bar to see who was making noise in the empty room.

“I'll get Tifa,” were the only words he had for me. And within a very small amount of time, I decided that Shelke had it completely right – the time for living had come. I didn't know anything about how my life would change or stay the same, but I did know that sometimes in order to move forward, you have to take a chance.

Tifa looked rough and I really hoped she wasn't having a bad time of it with Cloud again. But I didn't ask. She was as she ever is in word and deed though – kind, generous, and eager to help. She offered to distract the room-full of bar patrons and did so spectacularly. The days worth of lead time was for the sake of safety. There was a lot that I wanted to tell Yuffie and I didn't know how long it would take or how she would react.

I never knew that someone as petite and as battered as she clearly was at that moment could hit so hard. I talked to cover up my cataloging of her visible injuries. Small cuts covered her arms and a large bruise on her thigh disappeared into the hem of her shorts. Whatever she had been through had been tiring and awful and she was falling asleep sitting up. Her bruises were changing from purple and black to green and yellow as I watched her, so I knew that most likely Tifa had put a Cure2 to work on her.

I was content to let her sleep, but I was selfish too. After hundreds of miles of only memories of her, I had no desire to be anywhere by right beside her. And I could not convince myself to stay without at least broaching the subject of the future with her.

As if I have not already confessed enough in these lines, I have yet another to make. Since I was a small child, I have been shy. My father taught me how to shoot and in that I found confidence. But it never cured me of the reserve that I was born with. No amount of genetic modification can erase a character trait so ingrained. My embarrassment was acute and, I am sure, evident to her.

Thankfully even when she is tired, she is fearless.

I think Yuffie was asleep before her head even hit the pillow. My last conscious thought for the night was of how small she felt when she curled herself into my arms.


	6. Yuffie - 6

I slept like the dead for about four hours after a very shirtless Vincent had tucked himself in beside me. He smelled like sweat, open air, gunpowder, and something faint that I knew I'd smelled before and couldn't place. The mix was not completely pleasant, but it wasn't awful either.

After those first four hours, I got restless. I was not surprised that sleep that night wasn't coming easy, and that was before I had my second ever-in-my-life bedmate. (The frist was Tifa and was pure necessity. No one wants to room with someone horking their guts into a trash can all night, even if it is Chocobo-head Cloud doing the horking.)

I woke up at least five times between two and seven. The rest of the time I didn't feel like I was properly asleep, just dozing and being uncomfortable. After the second time I woke, Vincent was awake and offered potions and cures, anyting to ease my pain.

I refused everything. If I accepted, he would move and that was the absolute LAST thing I wanted. So the one thing I probably really needed, I didn't get much of. But he didn't move or leave so I had plenty of what I wanted.

At seven, I gave up. Such an ungodly hour of the day if you don't have anywhere in particular to go or anything to do. But seven it was and the morning sun was beginning to show through the crack in the curtains.

I rolled over to face Vincent, discovering yet another bruise the hard way. Shifting just a little so that I could look him in the eye, I said, "Tell me. Whatever it is, just tell me."

And he did. He told me about his week in the cave, about his week in Nibelheim with Shelke. He told me what he understood of Lucrecia's motives, of what he had learned from Shelke about her relationship with his father. He lapsed into memories of her and of Hojo and about how Hojo managed to sort-of regenerate himself after we had killed him so soundly already. He explained again how his own health was a huge unknown and what would probably have to happen to know more. He told me how he still felt guilty, but knew that the fault wasn't entirely his own.

While he talked, I laced my fingers through his and listened. This was WAY more information to take in than I had expected, but it seemed like he really needed to tell me all of it at once. He visibly relaxed the more he talked.

When he was finished, he leaned over and put his forehead on mine. "I have never known you to be so quiet. Are you okay?" Worry knitted his brows together.

I smiled back at him and scrubbed my free hand over my eyes, "I'm fine. Tired, sore, and on information overload, but I'll be fine. I just need to process the very large BUH WHAT you just dropped in my lap."

He nodded then, “I understand. I'm sorry.” And then he tried to get up.

“Hold it hot shot, where do you think you're going?” I don't know what he was thinking, but I sure wasn't ready to let him trot off to skulk in a corner.

He looked down at my hands holding on to his arm like he only just realized that I could do that. “I was going to go shower so you could think.” Seriously, he has the most adorable perplexed face. EVER.

“Uh, how about no? I can think just fine with you right back where you were, thankyouverymuch.” I tugged and he fell back into place with a chuckle.

“Yuffie, you are...” there was an eye roll in his voice if not on his face.

“Awesome, I know. That's why you aren't going anywhere.” I snuggled as close to him as I could and put my head on his shoulder. “See, why would you want ot leave?”

More chuckling. “Why indeed?” He lifted a hand and statrted to play with my hair. He was quiet for a minute and asked, “Why do you look like you got hit by a truck?”

I sighed. I had already given a little thought to what I would tell him if he asked. But instead of my clever, rehersed attempts to make light of the last four days of wandering, I just told him the truth. I was starting to think that all of Vincent's problems seemed to stem from people not just telling the truth. All of it. Well, I could stop myself from giving him more of that crap.

“I'm sorry. I didn't know it would matter that much to you.” He looked really sad and legitimately sorry.

I lifted my head just enough to make eye contact with him. “The last time I saw you for more than five minutes of mortal peril, you were doing VERY delicious things to me with your mouth and hands. Hot. Crazy. Earth-shattering things.”

He started to turn pink again and cleared his throat. “I wasn't the only participant in those activities. And I remind you that you offered. “

I had, hadn't I? I wasn't really sure how to answer that, so I didn't. “Anyway. It mattered. A lot. But you are here now and I'm not letting you wander off again any time soon!”

"Then I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you are going to have to let me go. Soon.”

I started to protest again, but he held up a had to silence me. I scowled.

“Or you will suffer the consequences of having a very wet bed.”

I can't remember a time I have ever moved so fast in my life. Vincent just laughed at my sounds of grossed-out-ness as he slipped out of the room.

It was a nice thing to hear, that laugh. I had heard it before, maybe twice in the whole time I had known him. Vincent's laugh isn't loud and it doens't have much force behind it, but it is full of nothing but good humor. And even directed at me, it was still good to know he could manage it.  
It heard the water in the shower start not long after he had left and I knew it was time to stop being lazy. Yeah, I was stiff and sore but here are things that I will do no matter what – and one of them was my katas. And the best spot for that at Seventh Heaven was on the roof.

I drew an arrow on the fire escape window iwth my lip gloss and headed up. I'd already been thinking about everything Vincvent had said, but a little blanked-mind time would make the thinking all the easier. It always did.

I'm not sure about timing, but usually from the time I go up the stairs to the time I come down again is about an hour. I get lost in the space beyond concious thought in the empty peace of earth, air, and me. There are very few days in my life that I have missed this ritual, and while it sounds so stupid out loud, I NEED this every day. If it doesn't happen, I'm moody, tempermental, and bubble-headed all day.

That isn't to say that I am oblivious to my surroundings., I'm not. Everything just comes through as more like ripples in the air than whatever bird, bug, or person it actually is. And intent of something alive and nearby is easier to read – creepy mosters sneaking up on me still don't stand a chance.

I registered that I wasn't alone on the roof and that whoever was up here was just waiting for me, so coming back to earth to find Vincent parke on the edge of the roof was no huge surprise. But he had that little line between his brows that meant he was thinking hard about SOMETHING.

“Oh, no,” I said to him, half joking. “What ever it is, it isn't my fault and you can't prove ANYTHING.”

That little line didn't disappear. Damnit. Maybe I DID do something.

“I want your help.” He held up his left arm. “I'm having a wardrobe malfunction.”

Without the gauntlet, it is still a completely inhuman claw – I was a little weirded out by that the first time I ever saw it. I mean, who wouldn't be? Here's this guy, that outside of being really quiet, pale, and looming looked normal. 'Cept for this claw instead of a left hand. But, it all made sense once I'd seen him change into Galian Beast the first time. It wasn't his arm at all, it was Galian's. Past that, I had never given it much thought.

“Hate to break it to ya, babe. But that's been there for a while. “ I grinned at him, thrilled that I hadn't done anything awful so early in the day. I'm used to getting in to trouble, but it was still just TOO EARLY.

Aww, perplexed face again! I didn't have a clue how I was confusing him, but I made a mental note to do it more often. And on purpose.

“How....?” He stopped and shook his head just a little. “My left glove got shredded right here,” he pointed to the spot just below his elbow where human skin and Galian's met. “I've been making it work, but I want to be free of the gauntlet for a while. I can't leave it ucovered and I don't want o dig through cabinets at random.”

I readily agreed to help him and before long, we'd raided the first aid cabinet for bandages and he was parked at he foot of the bed while I started wrapping up his arm. He gave a couple of instructions – it had to be as smooth as possible and tight enough to stay on without being too tight. Anything sliding over that spot hurt.

“Hence the flashy accessories,” I teased as I worked.

He was that quiet that, in the past, had usually led to me being thrown out ofhis house. Maybe I did do something wrong. Well, he coudln't throw me out of Seventh Heaven so there was only one thing to do.

“What'd I do, Vince?” I sighed and kept my eyes on what I was doing. “You are going to have to tell me, 'cause I'm clueless.”

He waited the span of two breathes before he siad, “Nothing. You didn't do anything. That is what I don't understand.”

Now it was my turn ot look confused. If I didn't do ANYTHING then why was he less-than-thrilled with me?

“Yuffie, I am coverd in scars – the gunshot that nearly killed me, the burns from mako IV's, lines of stitches from a half-finished autopsy, and Materia burn. I look like what I am, an expirement that didn't go as planned.” A self-depriciating sound followed all this. “And you seem to be completely unphased by it.”

I kept wrapping and glanced up at him. “I'm not completely unphased, you know.” For the most part I just didn't care. I knew he'd been through hell, and I had expected a lot of scars and general strangeness. “But it isn't the scars you have that trouble me.”

Perplexed face again, but this time I couldn't enjoy it. All I could think about was the sight of his heart beating frantically in his chest. And that I could SEE IT before the wound healed itself without a mark left.

I tucked in the top edge of the bandage and moved one hand to the center of his chest. “It's the one you don't have and should that makes me want to throw up.”

He just held me for a few minutes after that. I managed to not puke or cry on him, but it was a enear thing with that last one. I was saved by a loud rumble from my own stomach.

I rumbled, he chuckled. “I second that sentiment,” was his reply.

I hopped off the bed and headed for the door. “I'll cook! What do you want? I'm sure there's eggs and maybe some cheese, though Cloud doens't like it much. Or how about...”

I didn't make it any farther either to the door or in my dreams of food due to being caught from behind by Vincent.

“No. No you near a hot stove with food involved. Until they find a don't-burn-down-the-house materia for you to steal, I'll cook.”

I turned around to protest that the incident with his kitchen was an accident that could happen to anyone, but right then it hit me. The smell I couldn't place from the night before! I felt the gleeful smile start to spread over my face as I grabbed Vincent by the shoulders and pulled him down so that I could bury my face in his chest, just under his left collarbone.

I inhaled deeply. Sharp, almost-but-not-quite tangy. An undertone of lilies past their prime and pure Lifestream.

“That's IT! I knew I'd figure it out eventually!” I pushed Vincent backwards and looked up at him. “Yep. You are caught now spooky-pants.” I sniffed again. “There is nothing I like better than the smell of materia in the morning!”


	7. Tifa - 7

I unloaded the story of Rude Being a Jerk on Yuffie while she dangled over the back of my desk chair gaping at me.

Well, she started by gaping. Then she started smiling. By the time I was done, she was laughing outright, her head thrown back nearly falling off the chair.

“God, I want to hit him so hard! If I knew where he was going, I would hunt him down and kick him in the knee!” I fumed and Yuffie kept laughing.

It took several minutes for Yuffie to calm down enough to wipe the tears from her eyes and find the ability to speak.

“I'm proud of him!” She giggled again. “It's been what, four years or something? About time he asked you out.”

Anger subsided to make room for a healthy dose of confusion. “What do you mean, about time?”

Yuffie opened her mouth to answer but was cut off by Vincent rounding the corner into the room and answering for her, “Rude has taken pleasure in your company for quite a while, Tifa.”

Eyes as big as dinner plates and all signs of her earlier mirth gone, Yuffie was back to gaping. “You really didn't know? Oh, Tifa!” She put her fingertips to her forehead, “You are so smart, why do you think he has been hanging around so much?”

“I thought he wanted to be helpful!” Okay, lots of confusion now. Years, what?

Vincent crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow at me.

Yuffie threw her arms wide, “And why do you think he wanted to be helpful? It sure wasn't ME he was spending hours on end staring at. And Cloud is more Reno's type.”

I covered my face with both hands and groaned. She was right! I hate when she's right because it is usually pretty embarrassing for me. Hours of his company over the past few weeks and I'd missed every single cue. I groaned again. What was it that had made me suspicious of him not even an hour earlier?

Avoiding direct questions? Hanging around for no reason? Being really nice to me?

I felt Yuffie plop down on the couch next to me. She touched my arm and I looked up at her. She was smiling. “It's okay. So you missed a few things. No biggie!”

I'd managed to collect my thoughts well enough by now. “Yeah, but I said no. I turned him down flat and he still force the issue and ignored me. I'm NOT okay with that.”

“Yeah, that's not cool. But I don't think he was being mean about it,” Yuffie shrugged one shoulder. “I mean, I don't think he's going to abduct you or anything. Well,” her eyes sparkled with mischief. “Not unless you ask him to.”

Vincent made a sound like, “Hmph!” from his spot by the door. “There is truth in that. Try to think of it less as him being forceful and overbearing.” He shrugged, “Turks are dangerous people. But they control that danger level with just as much expertise as they exercise it. He seems to be determined.”

Yuffie bounced a little as she said, “Yeah! And anyway, you can always bloody him up a whole bunch if he gets fresh with you!”

Vincent's words carried more weight with me because they cut right to the heart of what bothered me about the whole thing. But Yuffie's did get a smile from me so they were just as valuable. I relaxed some and started to change the subject.

But Vincent beat me to it. Sometimes I wonder if he isn't psychic. “ Is Cid back in Rocket Town?”

It took me a second to register what he'd asked. “Yeah. He went back a couple of days ago. Why?”

He shrugged one shoulder. “If you really are closing for the night on my account, you need to call him. It takes hours to get here from Rocket Town, even by air.”

I gave Vincent a sideways look. “If I call Cid, I have to call everyone. It's only fair.”

He nodded once. “Fine. I have a few things I want to get taken care of before more time passes.”

Yuffie was up and headed for the door in no time flat. “I'm coming too!”

Vincent caught her arm as she was about to pass him, “Not looking like that you aren't.”

He was right. It was somewhere in the neighborhood of eleven in the morning and Yuffie was still wearing the clothes I put on her the night before.

“Yeah, sweetie. As cute as the little pink cactuars are, I don't think the general public wants to see you in your pajamas.”

She surveyed her shorts and ratty tee-shirt. “Hmm, maybe not the best look. I hope I have clean clothes here.”

“Third drawer, on the right!” I called as she headed up the stairs.

Now it was my turn to cock and eyebrow at Vincent and he smiled. “She is... refreshing.”

“Cool water is refreshing,” was my rejoinder as I stood and put back the chair Yuffie had left in the middle of the floor. I was amused to see his cheeks color just a bit.

“Yes, that is true.” He cleared his throat. “It is also true that there are occasions when someone says no not because it is what they want to say, but because it is the more expected answer.”

Now it was my turn to color. I pressed my lips together and gave him my best glare. He held up his hands in mock surrender. “Don't shoot the messenger.”

Yuffie could be heard descending the stairs just then and Vincent leaded back around the door to ask her to bring down his gauntlet and gloves. After complaining about him not asking before she went up the first time, she retreated and he looked back at me.

“I don't think I'll shoot you,” I teased. “Maybe I'll just let you drown.”

Yuffie was headed back down again and Vincent gave me a wry grin, “I thought that punishment was meant to be disagreeable.”

Yuffie rounded the corner right then with her arms loaded. “I think I got all the pieces. Did you know this thing is heavy?” She handed him his things and rubbed her hands on her pant legs. “Heavy and kinda gross.”

I asked them to do the liquor run for me since they were headed out and they left. Once they were gone, I sat down to start making phone calls. I had to leave messages for Cloud and Nanaki, but everyone else was easy to get in touch with so my calls did not take as long as I thought they would.

That was kind of awful. Because somewhere in the back of my head where I was able to ignore it while I talked to other people, there was a little voice that had been mocking me all morning. And now, that little voice was laughing like a maniac because it had someone who agreed with it.

I had no other choice now, though. The house and bar wee empty, everything that had to be done was done, and I decided that I was just going to think about this and get it over with.

Had I really told Rude no just because I thought it would be expected of me to turn him down? I tried to be level-headed about this. Yes, there was a history of pretty intense hate between our friends, but that was past. And uneasy truce had been called a year ago and things between Turks and the old AVALANCHE crew were more peaceful than ever.

Even Rufus stopped by the bar about once every two months or so – usually to remove Reno by force. He even made sure that Reno's tabs were paid in full when he did that and got a drink for the road. A sign of good will or just fetching his lover home? Who knew, but it was civil behavior from someone who was definitely NOT civil in years past.

And there I was again, in the past. So much awful stuff happened, could I ever be completely free of it? Ugh, that train of thought ran on dead end tracks, no point going there again.

I forced myself to concentrate on the here and now. Rude had been so great about helping out and trying to keep me sane for the past week. Really, more like two weeks, but it was only the most recent one that he had really made his presence felt.

Oh, hell. He was (EXTREMELY) good-looking, he'd been here for me in a real pinch, and....

I had a sudden thought. I grabbed my phone again and scrolled through my contacts. I had Reno's number saved still from a night when he and Yuffie had gone to some loud, throbbing dance club in an effort to make Rufus green with jealousy. I don't know if their plan worked, but I got Reno's number before they left just in case.

It rang four times before he answered. “Wassit?”

“Reno,” I had spent every bit of 30 seconds thinking up what I was going to say, but he sounded hung over so I didn't worry about it sounding contrived. “Tifa. Could you tell Rude that I won't need his help tonight? I'm keeping the bar closed until tomorrow night and I can't get him on the phone.”

“Aww, damnit!” He took the phone away from his ear and said, “Rude! Seventh Heaven's closing for the night! I think she hates us.”

From the background, I hear Rude's rumbled answer. “Maybe she hates when you cry into your beer. I know I do.”

Reno came back on the line, asking if I hated him crying into his beer but I just laughed at him and hung up. I already had the information I wanted.

Rude had seen Vincent come in last night. No doubt his boss would want to know about that. But Rude had not said a word to Reno, which meant that Rufus didn't know yet either. I hadn't asked Rude to keep quiet and I doubted that Vincent had either.

Well, that settled that. At least in my mind it did. I let Rude off the hook and accepted the fact that I'd said no to a date with him because of a history that was really history and had very little to do with current affairs.

Things had changed a lot. Life was not what it had been before and a little trust was probably in order. I sincerely hoped I would not live to regret it.

The devious voice in my head gloated over this and reminded me just how muscular his forearms were. I decided that re-cleaning something wasn't such a waste of energy after all.


	8. Yuffie - 8

I had no idea where we were going other than the liquor store, but I honestly did not care. After eating something, I was feeling more like myself. I could tell that I was going to need plenty of sugar later in the day, but for the time being I was okay. I hadn't managed to get any more adorable perplexed faces out of Vincent, but I did get more kisses.

I hate admitting it, but he got the drop on me the first time. I was still enjoying the smell of materia and him (intoxicating!) when he took my face in his hands and made me look him in the eye. At first I thought that I'd crossed some line with him, he looked so serious.

“You. Are. Crazy.” How romantic, right?

I opened my mouth to protest, but instead of words coming out, Vincent's tongue found it's way in.

I nearly fell backwards down the steps. Not really, they were a good four feet away. But I sort of felt like I was about to fall down the steps. That was just shock, I think. Because this was definitely not one of those throw-me-against-a-wall kind of kisses.

Oh no.

With this I-could-do-this-all-day slowness, he wound his tongue around mine. Once, tracing a line down the side of my mouth with his thumb. Twice, I caught two fist-fulls of his shirt. Three times, sliding his clawed hand down my cheek, around my neck, nicking my ear, tangling into my hair.

After that I lost count. Time stood still. Everyday sounds were replaced with the sound of my own heartbeat in my ears and the only coherent thought I remember having is that my toothpaste tasted so much better coming from his warm, soft mouth.

Coming back to reality, to the clock on Cloud's desk ticking and the ceiling fan's chains clicking together, sort of sucked. I wasn't not happy when he stopped. Not at all.

“If I'm crazy, it's your fault.”

His face hovered so close to mine that I had a heard time focusing on his eyes. I felt his breath on my lips when he answered with a smile, “How do you figure that?”

I almost couldn't come up with an answer. Oh, there were plenty of smartass things in my head, but they were finding it hard to work their way past the writhing mass of goo that was my frontal lobe. Or what ever part of the brain is in charge of keeping the 'god-above-do-that-again' and the 'hot-and-bothered' parts under control.

“Well, you. And your. Kissing people when they don't expect it and.” Oh, this wasn't going well. “Wipe that grin off your face. This isn't funny.”

And to me, right then, it wasn't. Oh, sure. I'd been kissed before. By clumsy teenage boys in Wutai who'd been testing their luck with sloppy attempts at making out with the all-powerful Godo's daughter. Most of them got more than they bargained for, though. Or rather walked away with lighter pockets. I gained gil, and in at least one instance that stood out, the need to wash my hair because somehow, some way, the silly boy got spit in my hair.

UGH.

Vincent leaned back just a bit and dropped the smile. Then his face twitched and he smiled again. “Sorry. It seems that my mouth has gotten fond of you. He's off in a world of his own.”

I was torn between glaring at him and gaping at him like a fish. Was he... FLIRTING? There was some part of that thought that just didn't compute so gaping won. Gaping and blushing.

“Yuffie. I'm starving.” We won't talk about where my mind went when he said that. Cause it was decidedly not G rated. See what I said above about the regulator of the 'hot-and-bothered' malfunctioning. But the expression on my face must have spelled it out pretty clearly because his eyes got really wide and it was his turn to fidget and get a little pink.

Horribly Inconvenient Brain Goo solidified all of a sudden and my powers of speech and movement returned. “Ha!” Ninja triumphant! “Now we are even.” I kissed the tip of his nose and ducked out of his arms.

I giggled all the way down the stairs.

True to his word, he cooked. I didn't know that he even knew how, having not seen him eat ever. But he turned out to be a pretty decent hand at it.

We talked while we ate. He told me that he'd learned how to cook as a child in self defense. His father had gotten a nanny to look after him after his mother died and while she was a good teacher and very kind, too many undercooked meals had started to make him sick.

I had a hard time picturing him as a child and told him so. He smirked at me and, like he was confessing a crime, told me that he hadn't been very good at being a child. He didn't elaborate, so I didn't ask.

I found and read Tifa's note about closing the bar and calling everyone. Then handed it over to Vincent for him to read.

“Hm. If she wants to close down on my account, she'll need to call Cid soon.” Was his observation as he drank the last of his orange juice and glanced at the clock.

“Why don't you call him, then?” was my question. He hated his phone, but I knew that he'd use it.

“My phone is somewhere in Midgar. Probably in pieces.” He opened and shut cabinets until he found the salt and pepper. “Can I use yours?”

I gave him a sideways look and bit into a slice of peach. “Can't. I think it is at the bottom of a river somewhere.”

He stared at me, silent and unreadable for several minutes. I just ate my peach slice. If he was uncomfortable with my freaking out over him, well he could just be uncomfortable with it. I wasn't proud of it, now. But there was nothing I could do now to change it.

I reached for another slice of peach, but his hand shot out and took the bowl from right under my fingers. “Hey! I wasn't done with that!”

“But I'm done watching you with it.” His eyes had gone that dark, rusty red again and he was looking a little glazed over.

I couldn't help it. As he walked away with half of my breakfast, “Huh. Trade me my food for an award-winning view? I guess that's fair enough.”

He stopped and turned slowly around to give me this look that was equal parts shock, embarrassment, and what-the-hell. I put one hand to my mouth in mock horror at myself.

“Crude.” And he was starting to pink up again. I was getting good at this.

So maybe it was a stoked ego that was responsible for the, “Yeah, maybe. But your mouth didn't seem to mind.”

He'd made it to the counter with my bowl, but when I fired that sauce at him he whirled around to face me. He narrowed his eyes and I laughed. My laugh turned to a squeak when he closed the space between us in about a half second.

“Maybe you could use a little more of it's influence to clean up your act.” Whoa, he had a lot of teeth. And I thought I could see every last one of them with that wicked grin he was giving me.

And in case you ever wondered, while a stroked ego and an adrenalin rush are generally awesome things, when they get together in the same place at the same time, things can get broken.

Thankfully, this time it was just one of Tifa's plates. And it was totally Vincent's fault. He CHOSE to try to brace himself on the table. It is not my fault that he CHOSE the wrong spot and flipped the plate on the floor.

All I did was grab him by the hair and kiss him like the world was ending. Again. If he was caught off-guard this time, well. That was his fault, too.

I was testing his theory. Very scientific. My involvement was purely professional in nature.

“Sorry, babe,” I said as he surveyed the broken dish on the floor. He looked down at me, raising an eyebrow at the smug look I was giving him. “I think the influence of your mouth is not going to clean up ANYTHING.”

He scowled and I slipped away again, sticking him with the tidying up. I wandered in to Tifa's office – a small room off the back hall of the bar. She was cool about me checking my email here, and I was sure I would have a million of them from Reeve. Besides, I needed a few minutes to cool off.

As I clicked through twenty five emails from Reeve with varying degrees of panic in them, I couldn't help but think that maybe Reeve needed the influence of someone's mouth. Or maybe just a good scratching post. Number fourteen was a good summary of all the others, wailing about reports he wanted and where on Gaia was I and didn't I understand how much pressure he was under to wrap up everything about Deepground?

I like Reeve, but he's got a smart mouth and is kind of a jerk sometimes. I just deleted them all. I'd waltz in to WRO in a few days and annoy him on purpose somehow. Maybe I'd take him some catnip in a pot. That always drove him insane!

That decided, I heard the front door of the bar open and slam shut. Tifa barreled through the door and dropped into a snarly heap on the couch.

I tell you what, Tifa is a smart woman. But I guess we all have our moments of being blind and thick-headed. I just didn't understand how she'd gone all those years without even REALIZING that Rude was sweet on her! I was sure she'd been there when he'd admitted it just outside of Gongaga (where, incidentally, he had broken my nose.) Maybe she hadn't been paying attention, I don't know. But she'd managed to miss it completely.

And she, for some reason, was mad because Rude had found the most effective way to get her to go out with him. Because here's a little secret about Tifa. She's a NICE PERSON. So, if you really want something, begging does work, but so does just rolling right on over her protests. I'd done both with great effectiveness before and she'd been annoyed, but not hissing and spitting mad.

Then it dawned on me. She'd been getting along really well with Rude. I'd heard them laughing together about who knows what and she put up with him being here a lot. She wasn't mad because he'd been a jerk! She was mad. She was embarrassed!

I had a quiet little holy-crap moment over that, but I think I covered myself pretty well. She did smile when I told her she could just deck him if he got all grabby-handed.

It wasn't long after that that my own personal set of grabby-hands decided that he had places to go. I was not about to let him get away without me, and he only protested because I was still in my jammies.

What? It was only eleven in the morning!

But yeah, even I have limits and I'm not going to show my face on the street in my cactuar shorts. They have a hole that would be very evident if I were to fall over something. And of course, if you risk something like that, it ALWAYS happens.

I'm not the best at keeping up with laundry, so I was happy that Tifa had washed everything I kept at Seventh Heaven. I surveyed my options. The bruise on my leg was that sick looking yellow color now, so I sure didn't want to be showing that off. I opted for jeans and a Strife Delivery teeshirt since I had a fair number of scratches still, too.

When I had to go back up half the stairs 'cause Vincent asked me to, I took a minute to tuck two of my knives in the top of my boot before gathering up his stuff and heading back down.

Tifa asked us to pick up booze for that night – keeping it to everyone's favorites. She wrote a list and we were off.

“Where are we going?” I asked when the door to the bar was closed behind me.

“You stuck me with the dishes on purpose,” was all the reply I got. Well, that and a frown.

“Not on purpose! That's just how it worked out.” I shrugged and linked my arm through his. “So, where are we going?”

Vincent shook his head. “On all kinds of exciting adventures. First, I need an armorer to clean my gauntlet and fix my gloves. Then, we both need phones. Lastly, Tifa's errand to the liquor store.”

“Wow. How thrilling,” I deadpanned. “I don't know if I can take the excitement.”

Vincent snorted, “You don't do sarcastic very well, you know that?”

I stuck my tongue out at him as sarcastically as I could.

“You shouldn't make offers like that in public places. Someone might get the wrong idea,” he lowered his voice when he said that, but he still smirked at me.

I just looked at him, mouth hanging open.

“Looks like I'm one up, now.”

“I didn't know there was a contest going on,” was my reply, along with a smirk of my own.

He put on his best serious face, and let's face it. He's got 'serious' down. “Oh, yes. And I'm winning.”

“For now, maybe.” I could do serious too. Maybe not as great as he could, but I'd had less practice.

So, that's how the rest of our errands went. It would have been a very boring afternoon had I not been so busy trying to recover from his under-his-breath comments on minding my manners, having sticky fingers, and not keeping my phone on vibrate in my pocket. Then trying to come up with plenty of my own. I held my own there. I think the whole IN PUBLIC thing made it easier to think clearly.

While we waited at the phone place, knit his eyebrows together and observed, “It is really too bad that Cloud has no hope of becoming a deity.”

This ranked up there with the strangest things I had ever heard. “Why would he need to be a deity?” This made no sense.

Vincent leaded over and whispered in my ear, his breath warm on my earlobe. “Cause if he was, he could deliver me from you in that top.”

I cracked up. Doubled over instantly, laughing my head off. I had TEARS. I couldn't breathe! I'm sure that at some point I snorted. My sides aching and my head woozy, I looked at Vincent to find him looking as smug as smug can get.

“Oh, no!” I wiped my eyes and laughed some more. “You LOSE. Game over, no restart. You lose based on ridiculousness!” I slid one finger across my throat in a cutting motion.

I had reduced to giggling uncontrollably by now and the guy came back with Vincent's phone so he wasn't able to argue, and looked like he wanted to. That poor guy working the counter must have thought I was a complete nut-job. But I tried, and I just could. Not. Stop. Laughing.  
And he just let me laugh. Eventually, after several false starts that just sent me into a torrent of giggles again, I managed to calm down enough to talk somewhat normally again.

“Guh! I can't remember laughing that hard in ages.” I hiccuped.

“I have not lost. You just reacted incorrectly.” Smug, smug, smug.

“Nope. Reaction success is judged not by the hilarity that ensues but by the shade of red displayed by the effected party. You have effectively forfeited the game with your silliness.” Now it was my turn to be smug. Look at that, big words and a smartass, too.

“No,” he shook his head. “You are missing the point.”

“Oh, really?” I sassed. “And what would the point be, then?”

He stopped walking then and I turned to face him, crossing my arms in front of me. He leaned over so that his nose was touching mine.

“I was not aiming for laughter.” He shook his head slightly, “I was dead serious.”

My eyes were in real danger of falling out of my head and I actually felt myself go as red as his cloak.

“See,” he stood up straight again and smiled, pleased with himself. “I win.”

I simply couldn't think of a single thing to say to that. My mouth opened and closed several times, but my brain just turned off. Jerk brain. So I did the only thing I could manage to think of right then.

Patting around in my pockets, I pulled Tifa's list out of my jeans and brandished it at him. “BOOZE!” And I started to walk away from him.

After a minute he caught up with me and offered me his arm. I took it, resisting the urge to give him a pinch. I didn't say a word, mostly because I wasn't sure what ever would come out would be anything other than a string of deeply embarrassed squeaks.

Just before we got to the liquor store, he spoke. “I have to admit, that prize was worth it.” He looked thoughtful, I was just befuddled.

“I only wish I had thought to get a picture of that beautiful view,” his attempt at wistful was cut short when I gave him that pinch I had held back. As well as a few others for good measure.

“You are AWFUL!” was my half-indignant reply.

He nodded slowly. “Yes. It certainly seems so.”


	9. Yuffie - 9

The ‘welcome back Vincent’ party that night was pretty cool. Vincent seemed to be more comfortable and – if not wibbly-eyes happy – content to be surrounded by all the people who counted him as a friend.

There’s not much to say about it, really. Well, maybe not much. There were a couple of interesting moments.

One that really stands out is Cid's entrance. He exploded into the bar from the kitchen with no warning and catching Vincent with his tongue down my throat again (mmm. Totally getting used to that.) Cid’s eyes nearly fell out of his head. His cigarette did fall out of his mouth. Had it not been for Shera stepping out from behind him right then OUT TO HERE pregnant, I'm not sure what he would have said.

Instead, after much squeaking from me and a smiling (mmm, loving that too!) congratulations from Vince, he managed to fire out a snide, “If you planned on eatin’ the girl, least you could do is kill her first!”

I decided to refrain from bititng Cid's head off over that one. After all, Shera was there and she's just awesome. Like that aunt that was an accident for your grandparents, so she's way to close to your own age to have any sort of authority but is just crazy cool.

I spent most of the night talking to Shera and Nanaki, occasionally stealing sips from Vincent’s wineglass. I know he knew I was doing it, but he never said a word until I had sipped about a glass-worth. By the time Barrett was snoring in his cups and Cid had had enough to mellow into a decent person to be around, I was warm and fuzzy-headed.

Now, in fairness to Tifa, she didn’t have a clue. She REFUSES to let me get near any of the alcohol because I’m not legal age in Edge. Usually, I don’t really care. The only thing I like is spicy wines, anyway. But Vincent had gotten this stuff that smelled kind of like cinnamon and cherries, so I had to try it. And it was LOVELY.

Seventh Heaven had a packed house that night. Some rearranging and every last one of us was under the same roof for the first time in over three years. It was a happy thought to fall asleep to, coiled up in Vincent’s arms. And had I not been tipsy, the thunderous snores of Barret in the basement would have kept me up all night.

Thursday was a lazy day with everyone leaving over the course of the day. Everyone was still there to help with that morning’s delivery and you’ve never seen stuff get put away so fast. The last to go was Cloud. He got a call late in the day to pick something up at the Chocobo Ranch. The bar was busy that night so all of us, even Denzel, were pressed in to service.

Near closing time, Rude arrived. I’d been really busy, but his shiney head showing up pricked my curiosity. I could only watch from the corner of my eye, but Tifa looked seriously flustered. He stayed well past closing and Tifa stayed leaned against the bar talking to him after Vincent and I headed up.

As we settled in for the night, I told Vincent that I was going to head in to the WRO offices tomorrow and asked if he wanted to come along. He said no and that he had some other stuff to do in the morning, but we agreed to meet for lunch.

The next morning, it was insanity as four of the five people in the house (Barrett was off again, so Marlene was back) were trying to get out the door at nearly the same time. We all managed it somehow without anybody leaving smelling weird or wearing mismatched clothes.

Vincent walked part of the way with me and spent the first few minutes giving me the once over with this amused expression on his face.

“What? Do I have toothpaste on my coat?” I finally asked him. I’d done that before and not noticed it until Reeve pointed it out after lunch.

He shook his head, “No. I just can't think of a time that I’ve seen you in a skirt.”

I looked down at my navy coat over a yellow tee, and the skirt to match the coat. I smiled, “Guess not! But, I’ve been pretty rotten to Reeve so I figured I’d try to at least try LOOK the part today.” I didn’t mention that I was going to stop for catnip before I got to work. I can humor Reeve sometimes on dress code, but I will never ever not try to make him crazy in other ways.

Vincent went on his way with a kiss to my cheek that sent a touch of color into his cheeks. I watched him walk away for a minute, smiling at his shyness (AWWW!) and enjoying his exit stage left before turning and heading to the pet store. Catnip procured, I turned my steps and thoughts to WRO HQ.

Don’t get me wrong. I love my job. It has its tedious moments as intelligence work tends to have and there is SO MUCH information that is completely useless but it all has to be gone through just the same. I had a great staff of shadowy figures and people who looked like things they weren’t to gather most of the information, but sorting through it fell to me and my two in-office assistants, Ben and Kaila.

After I dropped off Reeves plant and got an earful from him for being annoying (and a hug for not getting myself killed. Reeve really is a sweetie, just a really easy target.)I headed to my office on the third floor.

After hellos with my team, they gave me a rundown of interesting things that had come across their desks. None of it was very troubling – minor pockets of Deepground that had been put down, a sharp decrease in monster activity around the Corel reactor, a cargo ship sinking just outside of Costa del Sol. I gave a few instructions to the two of them, then went to check how much of a pile there would be on my desk.

I was initially pleased to see that there was only one fat file waiting for me. I called congratulations to my assistants on a job well done and we all laughed – we all knew that they did 98 percent of the dirty work around here, weeding out only super-sensitive stuff for me to cope with. Every file gets tagged, and there are a select group of tags that are mine and mine alone. People of interest, primarily. But there are a few places and circumstances, too.

But my pleasure turned fast enough to grouchiness, then to resigned hatred. I’d been waiting weeks for what was in this file. Checks. Originals, not copies and there were a LOT of them. As I read the report that came with them, I began to feel sick. Once I had finished reading it and going through the pictures and other documents that I already had, I was both sick and determined.

I checked the clock – it was eleven thirty. I was supposed to meet Vincent in the lobby at noon. I banged my head on the desk and cursed. Kaila had already taken off for lunch and Ben asked looked in to ask me if I needed anything.

“Would you order me a car?” I asked him, muffled by the desk. “Please?”

“Sure, armored?” Ben is so practical.

“Yes,” I sat up again and started to gather files and papers in to neat stacks. “For noon pickup out front, please.”

Ben nodded and ducked out again. Still cursing under my breath, I put all the files in a bag and locked it. That bag went in to a backpack and the key into my bra. I hoped Vincent was early.

Thankfully, he was. And thankfully, he was by himself.

“I’m sorry, Vince. I’m going to have to raincheck lunch,” I explained as I hitched the backpack up higher on my shoulder. I noticed that he had gotten his gauntlet back and was a little sad about that. “I have to go for the rest of the day.”

“Then I’ll come with you,” was his reply. My initial reaction was to say no, but I checked that. I couldn’t let anyone here know where I was going, but going by myself might not be a very good idea. I didn't think my target was going to welcome me with open arms.

I nodded my agreement and headed for the front doors. As we walked I asked, “You armed?”

Vincent gave me a look that was a cross between suspicion and are-you-crazy but answered levelly, “When am I not?”

The car had just pulled up and the driver was getting out. They really did a great job with these cars – nothing short of a rocket could take it out, but it just looked like a boring old black sedan. “Had to ask. I want to get his trip over with without making any stops.”

Let me be really clear about one thing. At this point, I had resigned myself to what I had to do. I love my job, but sometimes I hate following my job description. When I gave the location to my driver, Vincent's eyebrows rose.

We were well on the way over open country before he asked me, “What's Rufus done now?”

I just sighed. “Need to know basis. Just because you'll find out in a few hours, doesn't mean I can tell you now.”

“That sounds ominous.” He was looking kind of mad, I just hoped it wasn't at me.

“It's in my job description. I can't talk about anything that I know with anyone who is not directly in the line of needing to know. It's a security thing. I'm sorry.” Oh dear, he was really not happy about that. I prefer to keep things I don't enjoy doing limited to one per day, but there was no time like the present to clear up a little matter that I sort of figured would come up eventually.

I reached across the seat and grabbed his hand. “Just because Lucrecia kept secrets doesn't mean that I will,” I started.

Well, THAT got a reaction.

His eyebrows knit together and he stared at me, angry as hell for a long second, “Yuffie, I never sai....”

“I know you didn't. I did. Just listen.” I kept my grip on his hand and turned in the seat to face him. “You've been through some serious shit. And yeah, it happened 30-odd years ago, but it probably doesn't seem that long to you.”

He looked away, but I wasn't done yet. And now that I had started, I wasn't going to be derailed by his discomfort or anger or hurt or whatever. “From what you've told me, it pretty much boils down to her not being completely honest with you from the second you met her. Everything else comes as a result of that one thing – her being a lying sack of shit.”

Oops. THAT was one thought I'd had that I'd planned to keep to myself. 'Cause even in my head that had sounded like new-girlfriend-cutting-down-the-ex crap. And that's what it was, I guess. But it was also the truth as I saw it. If she'd had any balls at all she would have told Vincent up front, 'Hey babe. Did your dad, and you kinda look like him. 'Scuse my while I go light my bunsen burner over that.'

I mean, really. How hard would that have been?

“Sorry,” I said to Vincent's incredulous expression.

Wait, what was I saying? “No, I'm not sorry. Well, I'm sorry if that hurt your feelings, but I'm not sorry I said it. “ I swallowed hard. He was giving me this super-intense stare that I just could not read.

“It's the truth as far as I can tell, and I'm not about to go digging through the files about you that I have to try to figure it all out. Unfair advantage not to mention unprofessional. Would you just say something already? You are creeping me right the hell out just STARING at me like I ate your dog or something!”

And he was. Just staring at me while I sat there holding on to his hand like I was falling off a a bridge.  
Finally he shook his head. “We are on the way for you to talk to Rufus ShinRa about gods only know what idiotic thing he's done, and you pick now to...” He paused.  
That was all the opening I needed, “Call a spade a spade?” In for a gil, right?

“Start this conversation with me?” I didn't enjoy this perplexed face as much as I could have. I was still too nervy over the whole your-ex-is-a-bitch thing.  
And now I was nervy and chastened. Crap.

We were quiet for several minutes, me out of not wanting to put my foot in it again and he was thoughtful.

“Right or wrong in your opinion of Lucrecia, you have put your finger on a sore point. Secrets make me incredibly angry,” his voice was quiet and neutral.

“Can you understand that I can't tell you everything that I know? That I can't lay out every detail for you?” We will not bother talking about my nerves at his point. Because I didn't have any left – just dangly, whippy things that might have been nerves before something big and ugly came along and gnawed on them.

“Can you make the distinction between your work and your personal life?” Was his question in response.

“I haven't had to before now, but I can try.” I'm a really good liar, but I'd already all-but-promised that I wouldn't lie to him.

He stared hard at me for a while. Finally, after ten million years he nodded once, “That sounds reasonable.”

Relief? Oh, yeah! That's when you start breathing again when you didn't know you'd held your breath, right? WHEW.

I took a deep breath and tried to let go of his hand. He wouldn't let me, so I figured that I was conditionally forgiven for calling his crusty, cave-dwelling ex a lying scumbag.

“All I can tell you about this trip is that Rufus won't be thrilled to see me and he will be even less thrilled when I start talking,” I flopped back against the seat-back and tried to pull one foot up to rest on the seat before I remembered that I was wearing a skirt and that is nearly impossible. I huffed and wiggled unhappily.

“In that case, I'm glad you let me come with you. I don't think Rufus would stop at shooting a messenger if he didn't like the message,” Vincent observed and I agreed.

A couple of quiet hours later, we arrived at Healen and at the ShinRa Lodge there. It really is a beautiful place – peaceful and the scenery is killer. I'd seen it all before, thought and I was starting to get nervous about this meeting. I had not called or emailed or anything so there was no warning to anyone in that building that they were about to get a visit.

But to my surprise, no one drew a gun on me. My bag and stupid skirt probably helped my situation, but that didn't make it easy.

“You want to see Rufus?” Tseng can be a real piece of work sometimes and there's no love lost between us. “What makes you think it is that easy?”

“Because it is that easy, Tseng. And aren't congratulations in order?” I asked as Elena entered the room from the left.

“Are they?” was Tseng's cocky answer.

I hate showing my cards plainly, but I just wanted to get this done and I wasn't about to waste time on him. “Oh yes. To you and Elena. I thought that the statutes that governed the Turks forbade marriage within the ranks? But, of course. Things are different now, aren't they?”

I kinda felt bad for Elena. She blushed a not-adorable shade of red and I apologized to her mentally. I like Elena, she's fun and a riot of tacky humor when she's not being a Turk.

Tseng flushed angrily but kept his voice level, “Well, well. You do know a great deal, don't you? Why don't you tell me what you want with Rufus and I'll see if it is important enough to bother him with.”

Condescending asshole. Apologizing to Elena in my head again (because I really do like her) I matched his cool tones and shot back, “Why don't you go make some babies instead of treating me like one?”

THAT shot hit home! He turned on his heel and exited through the door he had entered. As soon as his back was turned I looked at Elena and spread my hands, mouthing,

“So sorry!” to her. She gave me a long-suffering look and rolled her eyes before following Tseng.

It was only a matter of seconds before Rufus himself showed up. As slick as ever, he looked bemused and that grated on every nerve I had.

“Well, well Princess. To what do I owe this dubious honor?” If he were any more oily, he'd fall over with every step.

“Can it, ShinRa.” Here it goes, “Did you know that you are hemorrhaging money?”

He his used car salesman smile turned into a sneer, “And what is my money to you, Princess?” He spat my title at me like it tasted bad. Well I hope it did, 'cause I didn't like it either.

“To me,” I laughed. “Nothing at all. But to you it should matter a lot.”

I fished the key out of my bra and opened everything up. I handed him the files. At first he wouldn't take them. “what? Your reputation doesn't matter to you? You don't want everyone to trust the mighty ShinRa empire again before you kick it?”

He still wouldn't take the stack of files and they were getting heavy.

“Or maybe you don't plan of being easy to kill. After all, you've dodged it twice already, right? But you never know – those voluptuous whores you favor could be crawling with any number of diseases that would shorten your life.”

I do enjoy making Rufus ShinRa mad. He thinks he is so hot, but he is the ugliest angry person on the planet. He took the files and began to examine the contents.

“The top ones are the original checks that you sent via messanger to Reeve,” I explained the things he was looking at. “The next are the forgeries – very good forgeries, actually – that actually were deposited. The rest of that stack is photographs, memos, and general information about the trail once the originals left here.” Guh, I just wanted to leave. His gleaming white suit was making me sick.

Rufus scanned everything through one time, standing right in the middle of the floor. “Who is responsible for this?”

“I don't know and I don't care. That is your problem now,” I added 'scumbag' at the end of that statement in my head. “All I do is collect and distribute the information to the people who need to know.”

“Is Reeve aware of this?” He was not a happy ShinRa. There was a cold edge in his voice and I pitied the person who was fool enough to think they could cross him over money.

“No,” this was the part I didn't like AT ALL. “Reeve is part of the chain – the tail end, but still a part of it. I only deliver information to the people concerned. I don't take things to people to compromise security.”

Oh, how I HATED having to say that. I did not honestly believe that Reeve would steal anything from anyone, especially the WRO. It was like his baby, his pet project. It was what helped him reconcile himself to having actually worked for ShinRa EPC. I did not want to think that he would be so stupid or so selfish. He was like an old granny, fuss, fuss, fuss. But old grannies don't try to cut off their beloved poodles heads!

But he WAS a link on the chain. And if he WAS involved, he could blow any chance at figuring out who was responsible for the theft. And that would be useless.  
Rufus surveyed me with a cold eye. “Why do you care?”

Finally, I could leave. It is his problem now and he'd accepted it enough to wonder why I gave a rats ass about coming all the way out here to the god forsaken backwoods to tell him someone's robbing him blind. If he'd had enough brain cells to know anything other than the location of his hair gel and warming lube, he would have KNOWN why it mattered to me.

I turned toward the door and had to duck under Vincent's arm to get to the handle. Rufus called to me, “Kisaragi! Answer me.”

I gave a short bark of a laugh, “Call it thieves honor, ShinRa. Robin Hood and the Sherriff could have gotten along great had they ignored their different goals.”

Rufus seemed to understand my meaning. “You are a dangerous ally, Princess.”

“Yeah,” I said, cutting him a hard look. “But I'm a worse enemy.”

He looked down at the pile of information in his arms. “Clearly.”

I walked out the door without looking back. I could hear Vincent behind me on the stairs, but I didn't dare look at him. I could feel the tears welling up behind my eyes, and I was determined to be safely in the car before Iet them fall.

Had I just handed over one of the best friends I had to Rufus ShinRa? I didn't know for sure but the thought was eating me up. Reeve was smart, funny, and yes, a complete granny. But he was my FRIEND and I CARED about him.

Back in the car and heading down the driveway, I rolled myself in a ball and let the tears fall. Gentle hand and careful of the points on his gauntlet, Vincent unfolded me and pulled me close. He just held me for the longest time, letting me cry, not asking anything.

Once my waterworks had drained, he said, “You know that Reeve isn't involved.”

I sniffed, “Yeah, but that is the awful part of this job. I know, but I don't KNOW. I mean,” I looked up at Vincent and flapped my hands a little. “What parent wouldn't feed their kid, right? It doesn't make sense that he would be, but there's no PROOF and I can only act with hard and fast proof.”

I banged my head on his chest and made an inarticulate noise. I stayed that way for a while before Vincent said, “Do you need distracting?”

“Yes,” second time in the course of a day that I was talking to someone with my face buried. It was just a crap day so far. I was hopeful he was thinking of killer makeouts in the back seat of a WRO car, but truthfully, I was game for anything that did not involve suspecting any of my friends of shitty behaviour.

He tapped his knuckles on the glass that separated drive and passengers and gave a street address in Edge that I didn't know. I'd seen the sign for the street, I was sure, but I couldn't remember where it was.

“What's there?” I asked, curious about this turn of events.

“You'll have to guess,” was his answer.

“Oh, slick.” And for the rest of the drive I thought and guessed a asked and begged, all to no avail. He would tell me NOTHING of any use.

When I guessed 'the biggest pile of mastered materia anywhere on the planet' he laughed outright. I stuck my tongue out at him. He grabbed me by the arm and kissed me then – soundly and completely and mind-numbingly and out-of-the-blue.

“Not that I'm complaining or anything,” I said when we both came up for air, “But what was that for?”

“Pure inquiry, then?” Uh-oh. Serious Vincent was Serious. “I don't want you thinking that I'm angry with you, because I'm not. You have never minced words with anyone and I don't want you to do it with me, either. I can't expect you to be honest with me and be selective about when I want your honesty.”

“Vincent, I...” I wasn't sure what I was going to say, but his change of mood and his words somehow made me want to say something, anything really.

“I don't want to hear it,” he held up a hand to silence me. “Unless you are going to make another far-fetched guess about where I'm taking you, there's nothing more to discuss.”

I maintain that I shut my mouth then not because he told me to, but because I was trying to think of another guess.  
That's my story and I'm sticking to it!


	10. Tifa - 10

Thursday night, just before closing, the thought that I'd been studiously trying to ignore showed up at Seventh Heaven.

I had worked so hard to not think about Rude. For a day and a half, I had thought that I had done a really amazing job. But when I realized he was there, all of my hard work trying to think about anything but his incredibly well developed forearms was thrown right out the window.

That night was both awful and great. Business was brisk and endless. There was a constant stream of people coming in and out the door and everyone was really great. I caught a little heat from some of the regulars for being closed the night before, but everything was light and good natured. I could not have asked for a better night.

Vincent helped tend bar so that I could split my time between the bar and the kitchen, Yuffie ran orders to tables, and Marlene and Denzel helped keep things cleared and washed up. I sent the kids to bed at their usual time and thankfully, not long after that the mad rush cooled to a steady trickle.

I didn't actually see Rude come in. I had been in the kitchen and only saw him when I rounded the door and he was parked in his usual spot. I was again relieved that Reno wasn't with him, but by way of conversation, I asked about his partner.

“He's tied up tonight.” I caught the roll of Rude's eyes and wondered just WHO it was who had Reno tied up. Probably Rufus, judging by that look. Not my business, but still an amusing way to explain things.

“Bourbon?” I smiled as I asked. Good grief, was I really this leaning towards him? I sort of felt like I'd had a shot of something strong, but less warm and more nervous.

He nodded and accepted the glass I handed him. “What brings you in tonight, anyway?”

Rude smiled, an upward tilt of one side of his mouth. “I heard the help was a little sketchy, but that the owner was a looker.”

“Oh, really?” that's what I said, but my thoughts were more along the lines of 'Oh, help!' Every night, some poor soused soul would make a pass at me and I never batted a lash. But here sat Rude making me as hot under the collar as a school-girl.

What on earth was wrong with me?

I was really happy that we had a group come in right then and that I didn't have to make up a reason to walk away. If I had stayed there with him looking at me like he knew what I looked like with nothing on, I probably would have exploded.

And as soon as I had that thought, my imagination just took it and ran with it. This was getting out of hand. I shook myself, welcomed the newcomers and started taking orders while thinking of decidedly not-sexy things. Like dirty laundry. And washing dishes. Taking out the trash.

But I couldn't avoid him all night. I last called at the usual time and it wasn't long before all the customers except Rude were gone. I let Vincent handle the bar cleanup while Yuffie and I took care of everything else. I was surprised when I realized that Rude and Vincent had gotten in to an involved conversation about something. I caught snips of it as I made trips between the bar and kitchen and it sounded like they were talking Turk-shop.

At one point, I heard Vincent say, “I can't think of a circumstance that would lead me back to the Turks.”

I wasn't surprised by this, but it was a little funny to think that these two men, both of them with little to say, had fallen in to conversation about the one thing they had in common. Not funny ha-ha, funny in a sort of small world way.

Yuffie and Vincent said goodnight after all was back in order and I was left alone in the bar with Rude.

“Neither of them looks much worse for the wear,” he observed, nodding in the direction they had gone.

“Yeah. I think they'll both be fine,” I grinned. “She's tough enough for both of them.”

Rude laughed briefly at that before he said, “I kind of want to apologize for yesterday morning. But I'm not really sorry.”

I made a face of mock horror. “Pushy AND unrepentant? I should kick you out now.”

“Probably,” he grinned back. “But you won't.”

Okay, whoa. When did his face get that close to mine? And how did I not notice it happening? Heat rising up the back of my neck, I felt like I really ought to move somehow, but I just DIDN'T.

“Hm. What would you do if I kissed you, Lockheart?” his breath smelled like Bourbon and peppermint. Oh, help. I could smell his breath! Every brain cell I had was screaming to back up, move away, run for the hills.

“Why don't you find out?” Wait, what? Who gave me permission to say THAT?

My screaming brain shut up instantly when Rude closed the remaining gap between us. My pulse roared in my ears when he pressed his cool, dry lips to mine – soft, but firmly and radiating confidence. Slowly, deliberately one of his hands slid from my shoulder down my bare arm, coming to rest right at my elbow. There was something slightly possessive about the gesture, possessive and intimate. I felt like I should have a problem with that, but the best I could muster was a shiver of pleasure.

Rude pulled away a lot sooner than I wanted him to. He took his sunglasses off with one hand and looked down at me, a lopsided smile tugging the corner of his mouth up. “You didn't punch me.”

“Maybe I should.” That came out breathless. Breathless. Oh, help.

He let go of my arm and chuckled. Then he leaned in and put another, lighter kiss on my cheek. “Nah. I'll leave these,” he indicated his shades with a wave, “As a token of appreciation for you not kicking my ass.”

And with that he slid one ear-piece inside my top and let the glasses hang on my chest, turned and left the bar.  
I think I stood there for at least ten minutes before I walked behind the bar, and poured myself a glass of whiskey. Gods above, how was I ever going to manage a date with him when I couldn't even keep my head over a kiss?

One hell of a steamy kiss with a possessive arm grab that was easily the most alluring and provocative thing I had ever experienced.


	11. Vincent - 11

I was angry with Yuffie for the ‘lying sack of shit’ comment just long enough to become appalled with myself for being angry with her. Right or wrong, if I was going to demand honesty of her I could not justify demanding it on my own terms.

  
I was also uncomfortably aware of very real possibility that she was right. I was less kind to Yuffie than I should have been because of that. It wasn’t fair and I was not proud of it and after the encounter with Tseng and Rufus, I was even less pleased with myself.

  
I was worried – for the first time in a long time, I was worried when Yuffie told me that we were headed to Healen. Rufus often sought refuge there because it was quiet and out of the way. And most people still associated Healen with Geostigma, so very few people ever went there. He could be an ass to his heart’s content without being seen.

I dislike Rufus ShinRa. I don’t hate him with the same heat as some of my friends, but I don’t trust him at all. There was a time that his father could have been a really good man, but he chose a different path and the son took an entitled, spoiled youth and turned it in to a treacherous and violent position of power. Now, the vast majority of his power gone Rufus was a desperate man, at least to my eyes. I have no doubt that he felt some sense of debt to the planet, but he also still felt an intense desire to continue to have power and the money that power brought.

Being completely clueless about why she had to be there, I kept my mouth shut. And I was impressed. When I first met Yuffie, she was very much a child. I had begun to wonder if some of her remaining childish habits were more habit than actuality – her gravity in conversations that required it was an indicator that she had matured, but she had also learned to hold her tongue. The latter was very incongruous to what I thought I knew of her.

But her handling of Tseng and Rufus was nothing short of a work of art. I could not understand at first why it was that she was showing her hand so plainly to them, but then I realized that she was doing it on purpose. If Rufus knew that she had access to everything from his preference in extracurricular partners to his shoe size but was also aware that she would stick to the very letter of her job description, her life would not be in danger.

Because people with too much knowledge are frequent targets for violence. Yuffie knew this and I would not have put it past her to have calculated every move and conversation to make herself appear to be in possession of less information than she really was . Rufus was dangerous but if he thought that she could be useful to him at all, she would not have an enemy in him.

I had no doubt at all that Reeve was just as duped as Rufus himself over the whole business. And I understood that his position was open to suspicion and Yuffie’s trauma over having to suspect him. I had the luxury of being confident that Reeve’s opportunity did not equal his involvement, but Yuffie did not. At least not while she was ‘on the clock.’  
I had seen Yuffie cry three times since I met her. The first was when Aerith was killed. The next was when Rude broke her nose in the sunken submarine. The third was when Tifa re-set her broken nose. Knowing that she isn’t usually one for tears, I felt pretty awful as I sat there, holding her while she cried herself out. I was certain that her tears were a combination of her mixed emotions over the scene with Rufus, having to suspect Reeve, and stress from our not-quite-argument earlier.

  
There was only one of those I could do anything about. She had hit a very raw spot and it was going to take me some time to think of a way to apologize, reassure, and not invite hours-long discussions. I was just not ready for long, drawn-out conversations trying to relate my past to my present or my future.

  
I distracted her as best I could while I thought it through. I'm sure it seemed abrupt to her, but it wasn't. Certainly not poetry or even prose, but Yuffie did let it drop and for that I was grateful.

  
She kept guessing, each guess becoming progressively more strange as the sun went down. It was full dark by the time we arrived at our destination in Edge. She sent car and driver off with a reminder to the driver to get his overtime pay before she looked around.

  
“Quiet residential street, mostly new buildings, not too close to the center of town,” she rattled off her impressions. She took my arm and looked up at me, “Are we stealing something? Because I don't even have a hairpin on me, much less a lock-pick.”

  
Trust Yuffie to think larceny first.

  
“We are not going to have to stoop to breaking and entering,” I explained as I led her across the street to the only dark house on the block. “The owner will let us in.”  
She was confused by this. “I don't think the owner is home, Vince.”

  
“You know, I think you might be right.” I got pinched for my sarcasm and I was pleased she knew I was being sarcastic.

  
“So we wait, then?” She was a little downcast I think. She'd had a long day already and would not be thrilled about waiting in the dark. Good thing she didn't have to.

  
“No,” I pulled a pair of keys out of my pocket and held them up. “Because the owner just got here.”

  
I truly love pulling those types of tricks on her. Her reactions never fail to please some part of me that gloats over making her silent. I unlocked the door and switched on the light and still she stood, stock still staring at me like I had grown an extra head.

  
She followed me over the threshold then prowled around, flipping lights on and opening every door. She made it up the stairs and I heard her doing the same on the floor above. After a few minutes of silence, I heard her call me from the balcony. I walked over to look up at her.

  
“You bought this?” She seemed doubtful.

  
“Yes.”

  
“When?”

  
I suppressed a smile. “This morning.”

  
“How?” Genuine confusion.

  
I shrugged, “Cash still talks.

”  
She seemed exasperated. “That's what I mean. HOW did you afford it?”

  
I shrugged again, “ShinRa paid well and I never trusted banks.”

  
She thought about that for a few minutes while she looked around. From her vantage point, she could see a large deck that was part of the roof over the first floor. A metal catwalk led from the balcony where she was over to a door that opened on to the deck. For now, the view beyond the deck was pale streetlights below and open night sky above.

  
Had she looked left, she also would have spotted a fireman's pole but I was relieved that she didn't. Because, really. Yuffie and a fireman's pole?

  
I watched her shift her weight from one foot to the other and drum her fingers on the balcony rail. A few times, she furrowed her eyebrows together and twisted her mouth to one side.

  
“Was bringing you here the wrong thing to do?” I asked. I really had not expected her to be this quiet.

  
She looked down at me with a small frown, “When will you leave Seventh Heaven?”

  
Oh. That’s what was holding her tongue. “Not for a couple of weeks. The kitchen here needs work and the plumbing isn't great.” I matched my frown to hers and began, “Yuffie, I want yo...”

  
I was interrupted by a scream from her coat pocket. She rolled her eyes as she pulled her (literally) screaming phone out and flipped it open. “Yes Reeve?”

  
They exchanged words, Yuffie getting both more excited and less articulate at the same time.

  
Finally, “Yeah, he's with me. HA! Ask him yourself, you weenie!” With that she waggled her phone at me before tossing it down. I caught it and listened to Reeve.  
The short version is that Reeve had gotten information that there was a rogue group of Deepground soldiers that had taken to menacing the small villages to the north of Wutai. He wanted to know if I would be interested in taking a team in to remove these stragglers. It seems that Yuffie had enthusiastically agreed to help, but that a second team would make things go faster and save money.

  
Reeve knew nothing about the missing money. No more doubt existed.

  
I am not ashamed to say that I made Reeve beg, plead, and promise me things that I knew he would find it challenging to deliver. I had no desire to fall in to any contractual agreement with WRO so ultimately, that was the price Reeve paid. If ever he decided that he wanted my help with anything, he had to ask me himself. I would accept or decline based on my preference and I could name my price after each mission. Not a terrible deal from my point of view.

  
As I hung up the phone, I looked up to discover that Yuffie had found the fireman's pole. I made a mental note to have that taken out when she stood up on the railing, grabbed the pole and slid down, shouting with joy as she did.

  
“That is SO cool!” She had managed to land on her feet and as she made for the steps to do it again, I held out one arm to stop her. She looked up at me and tried to pout.  
Pouting doesn't work with me. Ask Marlene.

  
“Two things.” She continued to pout, but cocked her head to one side like a curious puppy. “One, enjoy that pole now because I'm having it taken down.”

  
She gave an injured 'aww' that I ignored. “And two, I want you to call this place home.” I swallowed hard. Saying that to her had cost me something and I hadn’t expected it to.  
She smiled up at me then and moved to wrap her arms around my chest. “Calling one place home’s kind of a weird idea.” Her voice was muffled in the folds of my shirt. “But if you’re here, maybe I’ll get used to it.”

  
We stayed in that embrace for a long time, neither of us in any hurry to let go. It was both of our phones going off at once that disturbed our contentment.  
“Probably Reeve again,” was Yuffie’s guess. She didn’t move to check, so I did.

  
“You get the gold star. He says that we get briefed at 6 and leave at 7am.” At least it was still reasonably early even if the sun had already gone down. The clock on my phone showed just past eight thirty.

  
Yuffie sighed as she let go of me. “Oh well. At least we get to eat and sleep like civilized people before we take off. I hate one hour turnaround times.” We headed toward the door, turning off lights as we went.

  
Walking back to Seventh Heaven through the dim streets, with her chatter punctuated by wide yawns I realized that I was more content now than I had been in a long time. I tried to mull over the why of that, but Yuffie wouldn’t let me. Her conversation jumped from subject to subject, her head tilting up expecting response from me about everything she said. None of it was particularly important or thought provoking, just bubbly, alive, and distracting.

  
It wasn’t until the small hours of the morning, right before sleep overtook me that I realized that the why of my contentment was right there – I was thinking about the now instead of trying to make sense of the past.


	12. Yuffie - 12

It was supposed to be an easy, in-out-done, twenty four hour clean up mission. And for the most part, it was a tidy, neat bit of work with two teams of four working seamlessly together. Vincent had already called for our ride out of the area, we were so close to being done.

But on one last sweep of the area around our extraction location, something went wrong. Somewhere along the way, one lone Deepground soldier had escaped us. And all it takes is one person to really mess things up.

And 'things' in this case turned out to be me. In the space of a few seconds, I went from scanning the underbrush thinking about how happy I was that everything had gone really good and really FAST to being on the ground, staring at what should have looked like my left leg but looked more like something that got in a fight with a wood chipper and didn't come out on the winning end.

I don’t have a clear memory of anything after that, just flashes. My partner on my sweep was a gal named Amy who had a way with a pump-action rifle. She had actually seen the guy who shot me step out and take aim at my back. Her shot took him out about the time he had pulled the trigger, which explains why I took it in the leg instead of the back of the head.

I was stunned stupid I guess, but the minute Amy started trying to stop the bleeding in the hunk of ground meat that sort of looked like my leg, I lost it. I am not ashamed to admit that I screamed blue murder. At some point I stopped because I was too cold to think much less scream. I remember that Amy radioed to somebody and that at some point, Vincent showed up. The last thing I remember is telling him that I was freezing while it felt like someone was cutting my leg off at the knee.

Then, I blacked out. Blissful oblivion! Hearing about it later was bad enough, I'm extremely glad that I didn't have to be conscious for anything else that followed. The after-effects were quite enough, thanks.

I woke up the first time groggy, sick, and numb. My tongue was way too big to fit in my mouth and tasted foul so I just went back to sleep. It seemed like a reasonable course of action and there wasn’t anyone there to stop me.

The second time I woke up, I was still groggy and sick. But my tongue was a reasonable size again and just tasted like metal. Clearly, I was in a hospital and reason told me not to move around much. But, I still took in as much of the room as I could with slightly blurry vision.

White walls, white ceiling, white sheets, and a pale blue blanket seemed pretty standard issue. There was something going *ping* every now and then to my right. Weak sunlight was filtering in through the blinds over the windows and casting even shadows on Vincent who was asleep in an uncomfortable looking chair across the room, head propped on his hand and ankles crossed out in front of him.

I smiled at the sight thinking that either this room was very small or he really had the market cornered on sprawling. My pleasant thoughts were interrupted by an unbearably itchy nose. The need to scratch led me to discover the most ridiculous quantity of monitors and tubes ever attached to one person. My right hand was actually braced to something so that I couldn’t move my wrist and dislodge any of the six (SIX?!) IVs that someone must have thought I needed. Thankfully, the only thing my left hand had was some little thingy on the end of one finger. I shook that off and proceeded to scratch to my hearts content.

Well, someone had been watching whatever that little thing was monitoring, because while I was in raptures of scratching, a nurse arrived to cluck over me for taking it off. She woke up Vincent (which did not sit well with me as I was planning on enjoying the sight of him sleeping a little more) before she left to ‘fetch the doctor.’

Once she was gone, I reached for Vincent and he took my hand. “You look like crap,” was my assessment of him. He had circles under his eyes and looked like he hadn’t seen the business end of a comb in several days.

gSo do you,” he kissed my forehead. “But with good reason.” And he proceeded to fill me in on what all had happened after I’d checked out.

I didn't take a direct hit with whatever the guy was using for ammunition (I don't care what Vincent says, I think it was forks.) If I had, I wouldn't have had any leg left at all. What felt like minutes to me had actually been about twenty before pain and shock knocked my butt right out. The two hours that everyone else was waiting for the extraction team were extra-long for my new BFF Amy who had managed to get my bleeding under control by plugging a couple of the holes in my leg with her fingers. I can’t begin to think about how completely gross that must have been.

It took a few hours for the doctors to patch me up in surgery. I got a nice metal plate to hold my fibula in place and another to help keep my tibia from healing up in some strange shape. Then came the stitching me back together. I had muscle torn to shreds but thankfully nothing that time and care wouldn’t help to mend back to almost-good-as-new. I was still missing enough pieces though to leave me with some killer scars but given the alternatives, I was not about to complain.

In route back to Edge, Vincent had gotten in touch with Tifa – she was listed as my next of kin in all of the WRO paperwork – and she had made it to the hospital before I even got here. She’d been his ticket into my room and for all any of the staff knew was still in the hospital. The way he said that made me believe that she probably wasn’t.

That reminded me, “How long have I been here?”

gJust overnight so far. It is Sunday morning, a little after seven.” While he answered, the door opened again and a nondescript guy in scrubs came in.

gI’m glad you’ve come around so soon,” the newcomer said as he walked over and started looking at the machines and bags of drugs that I was hooked up to. “I’ve been worried that all of this would be too much for your system. I'm sure you have the headache from hell.”

I nodded yes. It felt like someone was hammering on the back of my skull. He clamped off three of the tubes and then leaned on the bed rail to look down at me. “I’m Cal, by the way. I put all the pieces of your leg back together.”

Generally, I’m not a big fan of physicians in hospitals but this guy seemed decent. He ran through the required laundry list of questions like how did I feel (like I'd been hit with a bus) and did I want anything (to move and water.)

Then Cal went on a long-winded explanation of what he'd had to do. It was gross to listen to and what it all amounted to was this – my left leg was dead, they'd blocked the nerve so that I wouldn't freak out too much over the pain. I would get feeling back in a few days and when that happened, so would several other things. Namely something called a wound pump that sounded both disgusting and brilliant that would help the surface wounds heal up cleanly so that I could get a hard cast on my leg and not be cluttering up the hospital any longer than completely necessary.

Until the block wore off, I was stuck in bed. Cal the Doctor gave me strict instructions to not move without calling a nurse so that I wouldn't ruin his hard work. He warned me not to try to sneak a peek at my leg just yet because it was not a pretty sight, asked if I wanted breakfast and left promising to let the right people know what I wanted.

It wasn't long before I was sitting up and eating as best I could left handed. Vincent kept me company all morning and Tifa was back that afternoon with proper clothes for me, a drawing from Marlene, and Denzel's most prized possession – his handheld video game. He had sent it over thinking it might help keep me occupied, that sweet boy! She walked Vincent out and came back so that he could go get some rest (he'd only managed about an hour before I'd started stirring that morning.)

As the afternoon wore on, I slept some and got to lose all but one of my IV's. After dinner, Vincent came back, but Tifa still had to go get him. I fixed all my paperwork so that he could come and go at will. I thought that it was strange that they made him take his gauntlet off but never even seemed to notice that he had a service revolver holstered under his shirt.

Because here's the thing about plain-clothes Vincent. He always wears layers for that very reason. Usually he's wearing a t-shirt with some dark colored dress shirt unbuttoned over it. It could be nine thousand degrees and he'd have on two layers so that he can be armed and no one know it unless they knew what to look for.

For a day and a half, I was stuck in that bed getting progressively more antsy and annoyed. Tifa threatened to cancel her date with Rude that Monday but I threatened her life so she didn't. Monday, just after lunch when Tifa had gone back to Seventh Heaven and Vincent and I were playing our billion and first game of poker, my leg came back.

Oh sweet Leviathan in the sea, I thought I was going to die. Now, it didn't happen all at once! No, it took a few minutes for sensation to travel from my hip, (stiff, achey from not being used) down to my knee, (who the hell hit that with a hammer?!) to my lower leg (cut it off, cut it off, CUT IT OFF!)

For someone who'd only ever taken an occasional headache pill, it did not take long for me to become familiar with the glory that is intravenous pain medication. I get why they didn't start it before I got feeling back. They wanted to make sure that I still COULD feel something. I was happy that there didn't seem to be any extensive nerve damage, but I could have done without he forceful reminder that I was missing a chunk or two from a limb.

I don't remember them attaching the wound pump – that must have happened during the initial drooling-blob-of-painkillers phase before they realized that I was not the size of a horse and adjusted the dose accordingly. But it was still pretty neat – gross as hell to think about, but still neat. I was all splinted up with this thing sealed on to my leg with a black bag the size of brick that took care of keeping everything drained, clean and... yeah, don't think about it too deeply.

Because YUCK.

I was reasonably sure that I was going to have a pretty boring time of it, but my friends did their best to help keep me occupied. Tifa brought books and smuggled in all kinds of food when she came. She was there Tuesday morning with all the dirt on her HOT DATE with Rude and that supplied many hours of happy distraction. Reeve brought me a stack of file folders that had no actual work-related stuff in them, they were just filled with coloring books and crayons. Denzel traded out the games for his system and Marlene found a way to get a different riddle to me every day.

But my nearly constant companion was Vincent. He stayed all night with me, sleeping in what became HIS chair before leaving in the morning. He would be back with fresh distractions in the early afternoon. As the days wore on, he started bringing food from Seventh Heaven back with him. This caused some confusion with the nurses. I didn't bother to clear it up until someone actually ASKED why I wasn't eating. After that, the kitchen just didn't bother to send me lunch. This caused joy in my heart because hospital food is awful, period end of discussion.

I never claimed to be a well-behaved patient and it only got worse the longer I was cooped up inside. I got along just fine with the evening and overnight staff, but the morning people nearly drove me to murder. Every last one of them seemed unable to speak at any volume other than a shout. If that wasn't bad enough, they all talked to me like I was a naughty toddler no matter what I was doing. I asked Vincent once in a fit of temper why he kept leaving me alone with those awful people every morning and his answer earned him a pillow to the head.

gBecause you are unarmed and can't really do anything but shout. Whereas I would actually shoot them if I had to listen to the nattering for any length of time.”

By day four, I was out of bed and inhabiting Vincent's chair when he came back a little later than usual. He delivered my rations a la Tifa and congratulated me on my properly upright position before sitting on the foot of the bed and crossing his legs in front of him like a little kid.

He apologized for being late and I asked him where he'd been, thinking that he had fallen in to conversation with Tifa or Cloud and might have something new to tell.

I never finished lunch that day. I caught a really bad case of what-the-FUCK while I listened to him telling me about how he'd been earlier in the week to talk to someone in genetics. This particular day, just a week after wandering back in the Seventh Heaven, he'd gone back to find out that what he thought he'd known about the demons Hojo had shoved in to his head wasn't right.

A little background first, though. When a normal human is infused with mako, their DNA remains whole but is given a coating of mako that enhances strength, speed, and other physical characteristics. That's where the 'mako-blue' eyes come from. Normal people with Jenova cells have their DNA altered – the amount of alteration is determined by the quantity of Jenova cells used.

Vincent's vicious companions were not in his head at all. They were like Jenova cells – they had altered and replaced parts of his DNA. He had been hoping that like Chaos, they were removable. That by getting rid of whatever parts (like Galian's arm) came from them he could be free of them forever. But that couldn't happen because they were as much a part of him as blood and bone.

He'd not told me that he'd wanted to be rid of them, but he didn't have to. I'd known Vincent long enough, seen him burn with hate every time he'd reached the end of his rope and one of them took over. No, he didn't have to tell me that he wanted them gone.

Whoever he had talked to in genetics had asked him if he was able to control any of the demons. He'd told her no initially, but then realized that what she meant was if he could call any of them at will. He had been able to call and send Galian at will for maybe a year and a half, and even direct what Galian was doing on a sort of base level. The doctor had wondered aloud if he might be able to control all of them, given that the Protomateria was still there and didn't seem to have any real purpose.

So he'd tried it. He'd left Edge afterwards and called all three of the demons and every one of them came and went at Vincent's will and did exactly as Vincent told them to do. He said it felt like giving directions from the back seat of a car with drivers who ranged from content to follow (Galian) to telling him to shut the hell up but doing it anyway (Hellmasker.)

To say that this new information upset him would be sort of like saying that Meteorfall had been kind of annoying or Geostigma had only affected a couple of people. Listening to him talk in this shaky, halting voice with his eyes on his lap was painful and my heart broke for him. I'll spare you my thoughts about Crystallized Assbags and Truly Fucked Up Scientists. Dead horses and all.

After a minute of silence he made a self-depreciating noise and said, “Being rid of Chaos hasn't made a bit of difference. I'm still just as much of a monster as I ever was.”

Now, that made me mad. I've always hated how he seemed to not draw any distinction between himself and Galian, the Death Gigas, and Hellmasker. I get that he didn't have the same point of view that I had – it was happening TO him, not NEXT TO him so he couldn't see what I had seen. He'd not 'met' any of them independent of himself and I realized that. But for me and I'm sure for everyone else in our goofy little band of friends there were VERY clear lines there.

"No,” I was still taking all this in so I sort of heard myself say that from somewhere else. “No, you are not a monster, Vincent.”

He was giving me that look that he gave everyone when they said that to him. But I wasn't having it. Not anymore. Still processing, I wagged a finger at him.

"Don't give me that look. Have you not been listening to yourself? Seriously?” Then it all clicked in to place. Before now, I hadn't had a clue where I was going with this. But like a flash, it all made so much sense.

"Listen, you never were a monster. VINCENT never was any more a monster than... than me or Cloud or Barret. None of us are blameless but we are not monsters. And you, YOU aren't either. YOU never were!”

My mind was whirling and he was looking at me like I'd lost my marbles. He honestly had not been listening to himself, not THINKING! And he still wasn't, judging from the blank look on his face.

"You don't get it, do you? THINK, Vince! Before, where were YOU when one of those punks showed up? Where was Vincent?”

Poor guy, I almost felt sorry for him. He'd never even considered that he'd not even been a part of the equation before. He'd assumed that since his band of extras stood in his place that he was there. It nearly broke his brain to think about it the fact that he wasn't.

"I can tell you where you were not. You were not there, telling them what to do or even giving suggestions. They are part of you, but YOU were never part of THEM.”

Oh, LIGHT BULB!

I'm sure I was ginning like an idiot by this point. And yeah, I could have let him make that last connection on his own, but how could I resist?

Crossing my arms over my chest I almost snarled, “Not anymore.”

I will always hold the sight of him in slack-jawed realization as one of my favorite memories ever. That was the only time I ever saw it because that was the only time I ever got to the core of anything before he did. But for one shining moment, I was on the ball and that look on his face was reward enough for a lifetime.

I watched him for a long time. Various emotions played across his features. Realization, confusion, perplexity (still a sucker for that one,) anger, understanding, and finally a form of amusement. When he looked up at me at last with a smile and a shake of his head, I grinned in return and threw my arms in the air, “You win!”

Vincent's smile softened a little and he got a little pink around the collar. “I guess I did.”

I would tease him for months afterward about being thick and not paying attention but in reality he had just gotten stuck – trapped in an old habit and he hadn't seen what was right in front of him. He was a good sport about my teasing though and probably saw it for what it was – a reminder that things had changed and old lessons were to be learned from but not relived.

A couple of days later, not quite fully healed but close enough to it to get my first hard cast, I went home. The house Vince had bought had not needed as much work as he'd been told, so that was where we went.


	13. Rude - 13

I arrived a half-hour earlier than I had said I would to take Tifa to dinner on Monday night. Business had to come before pleasure. I hoped that my business would not cost me my pleasure. Tifa did not trust easily.

  
She was surprised to see me early but Cloud was simply surprised to see me. That didn’t matter though, he’d had his chance and I was not here for him.

  
I was very up front with Tifa, and it was her that I was there to talk to. She was leery and seemed unhappy when I told her that my boss wanted information that she could probably give but she was willing to listen. She made no promises of cooperation.

  
That was one of the things I liked about her. What she didn’t say was just as telling as what she did.

  
“Was the little Kisaragi girl an intended target?”

  
“Why does it matter to Rufus?” Her hackles were up.

  
“The kind of knowledge that she has could make her an easy target. He is anxious to show his gratitude to her for pointing him in the direction of an embezzler.” My orders were to gain information however I needed to. Lying was always an option, but lying would definitely cost me the pleasure of her company.

  
Tifa narrowed her eyes at me and crossed her arms. “No. She was shot by a Deepground soldier who managed to escape notice.”

  
She was even beautiful when she was mad. “That’s all Rufus wanted to know. I gather that he feels indebted to your little friend.”

  
“How novel. He wants to use her position for his own gain more like.” Beautiful with that Nibelhiem lilt in her voice and the line between her eyebrows.

  
“Probably.”

  
A laugh, unamused and short. “Then I wish him luck. He’ll need it.”

  
I couldn’t help but smile. “She made Tseng mad enough to break things and Elena was beet red for hours after ten minutes with her. I think he will need more than luck.”

  
Pride flared in her eyes and I dialed Rufus’s number. I relayed all this information to him but did not bother to tell him that I had him on speaker during the call.

  
Cloud frowned during the whole exchange. But like I said, I was not there for him. Tifa tried to hide a smile and I wished she wouldn’t. Once duty was discharged I could turn my attention where I wanted.

  
And she was leaning against the kitchen counter with her ankles crossed. “Ready?”

  
“You tell me,” she gestured to her clothes. “I’m still in the dark about where we are going.”

  
I would never pass up a chance to take in all of her with permission. Her blue t-shirt tucked in to hip hugging black pants and silver-toed boots did not disappoint.  
“You are a vision.”

  
“And you are cheesy,” she smiled. “Let me get my coat.”

  
I was left in the kitchen with Cloud who promptly asked, “When did this happen?”

  
I almost felt sorry for him. Almost. “When you weren’t looking.”

  
His face was neutral but he was thinking hard about that one. Finally, with a curt nod, “Don’t mess it up.”

  
I refrained from replying and Tifa was back before many more minutes had passed. She gave Cloud a couple of reminders about the kids before we left through the back door.  
We walked in silence for a few minutes before she looked up at me and said, “You know I almost canceled on you tonight.”

  
“I’m surprised that you didn’t, actually.”

  
She hummed a bit. “Yuffie threatened my life if I did. Maybe you should thank her sometime.”

  
I inclined my head a bit before answering with, “I will have to remember that.”

  
We lapsed back in to silence for another block. It was Tifa who broke it again. “Where are we going?”

  
“There’s a place on Baker that’s pretty good. Quiet, comfortable. Is that okay?”

  
She shrugged and replied with a smile, “Sounds fine to me.”

  
I nodded and more silence followed. The walk did not take much longer and the café was busy but not overflowing.

  
As she scanned the menu she sighed, “You are kind of making this uphill work you know.”

  
“I’m sorry. I’ll try to do better.” Silence descended again.

  
The waiter came for drink orders and walked away again. Tifa put the menu down and leaned her forearms on the table. This was distracting. Between her narrow wrists and long, slender fingers, had I not known first-hand how much damage her fists could do I would be lulled in to believing her to be a fragile creature in need of protection.  
Instead, I almost missed what she said next because I was thinking about just what I would give up to have her hands on me just once.

  
“Well, don’t lets both talk at once or anything. We can take turns.” She raised her eyebrows at me and half-smiled.

  
“Ladies first, then.”

  
“Nice. What if I countered that with age before beauty, then?” her smile was at least genuine. And her lips….

  
“I would wonder how you would know I was older than you.” I was. By several years.

  
“A guess, actually. You have the lines around your eyes and those don’t seem to show up until after 25 or so.” She took pride in this estimation. “And if you would take your sunglasses off, I could probably get pretty close.”

  
Who was I to refuse her anything? Absolutely nobody, that’s who. “Okay, give it a try.”

  
She stared at me for a few seconds before the waiter brought our drinks and took our orders for food. Then, she returned to studying my face closely.  
Her eyes narrowed and she inquired, “Where are your parents from?”

  
I chuckled a little. “My mother is from Costa del Sol. My father was from North Corel.” She was struggling, not trusting herself.

  
She frowned deeply and pointed to the side for me to turn my head. I did.

  
“You are over 30. By how much?” She was surprised, I suppose. Nine years is quite an age difference.

  
“I’m 32. My birthday is in July,” I paused after this. “That was impressive. Occupational requirement?”

  
She nodded the affirmative. “Not everyone ages the same way, but there are a few markers that make it easier to decide to ID or not.”

  
I asked her to name them and she did. My eyes followed her words, hoping that I could burn the smallest details of her on to my brain. I must have stared too long. Her cheeks were flushed when our food arrived.

  
We ate in a more relaxed silence for several minutes. “I’m about to ask you a question that is going to border on too personal,” I warned her.

  
She was on her guard immediately. “I can’t prevent you asking, but just remember that I don’t have to answer.”

  
I nodded once. “Understood. Are you okay?”

  
She gave a half-startled, “Yes. I’m fine.”

  
“Because the lines around your eyes say otherwise.”

  
“I’m never giving away my professional secrets to you again,” she laughed. “I’m a little tired, but I’m fine. It’s been an eventful week!”

  
I nodded comprehension, “I don’t want to steal too much of your time if you need rest.”

  
She didn’t miss a beat with her reply, “You asked me to dinner. Actually said that it was ‘just food.’”

  
“So I did. I also said I didn’t bite,” I reminded her.

  
Her fork waving idly in her hand and an edge in her voice she fired, “So you’ve lied about both, then?”

  
I shrugged and let a smile slide on to my face. “A walk after dinner might be nice. And I’ll only bite if you ask me to.”

  
She blinked once. Twice. Her mouth fell open a tantalizingly small amount. “You.” She started, stopped then began again, “You have a lot of nerve.”

  
I chuckled at that. “I suppose I do. Would you rather I dance around the facts? Dress them in perfect compliments that sound insincere?”

  
“I’m not answering that. It isn’t a fair question,” she held her chin high but a flush appeared on her face again.

  
I gloated quietly to myself while we finished our meal. The waiter came to ask if we wanted dessert and we both declined.

  
When he brought change to me, her eyebrows rose. “What’s that for?”

  
“I paid before we got here.” She was aghast and about to argue with me but I shook my head, “I asked you, therefore I pay. I didn’t want to discuss it.”

  
She was indignant and did not hesitate to give me an earful once we were back on the street. “That was more than a little presumptive. I’m not sure that I like this my-way-only streak in you.”

  
“Would you prefer I fall at your feet and demand you tell me what to do? Because I can do that, but I don’t think it is what you want at all.”

  
I hit the nail on the head with that. That tiny, inviting gap appeared between her lips again.

  
It was not that late, but after dark in Edge during the last week of September is cool. She had her coat so I was robbed of getting to offer her mine. But she was not walking away or punching me in the face.

  
We took the long way back to Seventh Heaven. Halfway there, she reached for my hand and I was more than happy for her to have it.

  
We arrived to a dark, silent house and she stopped outside the back door. “The kids will be asleep by now, so it’s probably best to be quiet.”

  
“I won’t risk coming in, then.” I kept my grip on her hand, reveling in the last few minutes of it’s smooth warmth.

  
“If you want a kiss, you should ask. You can’t just keep TAKING what you want.” Her voice scolded, but her eyes teased.

  
I surveyed the sky, frowning slightly. “You broke it once. This cheekbone,” I tapped my left cheek. “With your foot, if memory serves.”

  
She rolled her eyes at me and crooned, “Poor thing! Want me to kiss it all better?”

  
“That’s the idea.”

  
She giggled – it was a surprisingly girlish sound to come from her but it was comforting. She wasn’t taking me too seriously. That was a good sign.

  
In the fraction of a second that it took her to lean toward me and brush a ghost of a kiss on my long-since healed cheekbone, my free hand slid around the back of her head. Fingertips brushing her cheek I was pleased to watch her initial shock disappear when I turned my head to press her lips to mine. Her hand knotted in the lapel of my jacket to pull me closer and her eyes blinked closed.


	14. Vincent - 14

“Viiiiiince?”

 

Really? Four days she'd been home and she was just now getting to this?

 

“I'm boooooored!”

 

Convalescence did not suit Yuffie at all. She was energy and speed and bouncing liveliness, not sit still and keep your leg up. She'd been a terror while still in the hospital but her mood had improved with fresh air, sun, and home. But today was gray and rainy and that seemed to make her feel gray and rainy.

 

Hence, the unhappy wailing about being bored. I sighed and headed toward the kitchen to wash the grime of gun-cleaning off my hands.

 

“There is a room full of books down the hall that you are welcome to,” I told her while I scrubbed.

 

She stuck her tongue out at me from her nest on the couch. “Yeah, and you told me to stay out of there so that I wouldn’t knock something over with a crutch and get shot again.”

 

I shrugged one shoulder. “You are a menace on those things.” That was no exeragation. She had not learned how to be anything other than wobbly and bumbling on her crutches yet. It was sort of cute, but it was also dangerous depending on what she knocked in to.

 

Leaving the towel on the counter I walked over to the chair opposite her and dropped in to it with the heaviest sigh I could manage. “I suppose that means you want me to entertain you?”

 

“Well, if you insist on doing it how can I refuse?” She cocked her head to one side and suggested, “You could take me to a movie!”

 

“I’ve told you already, you are a menace with the crutches and I’m not carrying you in the rain.” Besides, I’d just had a much better idea. And if I suggested it, I could dictate the rules this time. “No, we’ll play twenty questions.”

 

Her face lit up. “Really? Really really?!” She bounced in place and clapped her hands. “Hurrah!”

 

I smiled at her and gave her a sideways look. “But I make the rules.”

 

She groaned, “Nooo!”

 

“Yes. Or I leave you here to stew in boredom.” She actually had to think about that for a few minutes. The last time we had done this it had been her idea and she had required that all the answers be lies. It was difficult, time consuming and she knew that I’d hated it. And she probably thought that I would attempt to get even with her for that.

 

Eventually, her allergy to being bored won and she consented to her favorite game on my terms.

 

“First rule is you have to tell the truth. The second is that all answers have to have an explanation behind them. Third, whoever uses their twenty questions first wins with the prize for winning chosen by the victor. Fair enough?”

 

She looked suspicious of this seemingly easy set of requirements but agreed readily.

 

“Shall I begin?” I asked. I was already ahead by two when she answered yes. “Okay, what’s your favorite color?”

 

“You already know that,” she chided me. “Green.”

 

“Why? Remember, you have to explain your answers.” Four.

 

“Because it makes me think of growing things and springtime. My turn now. Who taught you how to kiss?” She flashed her best cocky grin at me and was probably gratified by the blush I was sure was heating my cheeks.

 

“Her name was Anna Williams, she was sixteen to my fourteen, and it took three weeks for me to perfect it to her satisfaction. Do you wish to lodge a complaint with her?” Oh, dear.

 

“Not at all,” was Yuffie’s enthusiastic response. “Just congratulate her on a job well done.”

 

I couldn’t help but chuckle at that. “And who taught you?” I was at six to her one. She cheated at poker, I could cheat at this.

 

She did not blush at all and that was a little annoying. “Her name was Myra, we were twelve years old and decided that since boys were gross we would just have to teach ourselves. What tops your list of most embarrassing moments?”

 

She making me blush on purpose. Ah well, it would keep her distracted and I was on a mission myself. “Recent or ancient history?” Seven two.

 

“Oh, both of course!” I wondered which of us was having more fun right then.

 

I thought for a minute, heat rising in my neck the whole time. “You would want both, wouldn’t you?” Her nod made it eight and two. “Ancient history is easily getting caught…well.” I scrubbed my hand over my eyes. “In a compromising position by my nanny.”

 

She covered her mouth with both hands and buried her face in a pillow to muffle hel laughter. And yes, it was funny NOW - forty eight years after the fact.

 

“How do I let you talk me in to these things?” Ahh, that was better. I had to stay focused. That made nine.

 

From her pillow she said, “Me? You made the rules!”

 

I smiled because she couldn’t see it and answered the second part with better grace than the first. “The most recent mortification came from you about a minute and a half ago when you asked me about my most embarrassing moment and I had to tell you because I had made the rules.”

 

She threw the pillow at me and said, “CHEAT!”

I let the missile hit my head and fall to the floor. “Was it, really?” She had no idea much I was really cheating. I was half way done when she answered in the affirmative before I defended with, “No, you put no time limits on your question and frankly, that was much worse than anything else I could have come up with. What about your biggest embarrassment?”

 

She sat there for a VERY long time, deep in thought. “I’m not very easily embarrassed, but the one thing I’m coming up with leaves kind of a nasty taste in my mouth. I was so embarrassed and angry at the time but just felt stupid later on.” She looked very troubled by whatever she was thinking and I was about to give her a pass on the question when she said, “But when Nero completely ignored me and walked away into his creepy bubble, I was really embarrassed.”

 

That was not what I had expected. Not in the least. I didn’t have anything to say in response to that and there wasn’t anyone alive who could have laughed it off. She could talk about Rosso and Azul without flinching and I knew that while there was no love lost between them, she and Shelke could be civil to each other. But as far as I knew, she’d never even said Nero’s name before now.

 

And the hand she reached out to pick up the cup beside her was shaking. She took a drink and looked at me, her smile stuck back in place and not genuine at all. “You can’t keep just asking the same questions I ask. You have to think for yourself, Vince.”

 

Another sip and she set her cup down. “Why the cape?”

 

I was going to offer to stop, but decide to follow her lead. If we quit now, she would think about Nero all day and I did not think that would be a productive way for her to spend her time.

 

“It suits me. And it is handy, too. How many times have you attempted to steal it for warmth because you don’t know how to dress for cold weather?” A smile and three from her and twelve for me. I was happier about the smile. Clouds of fear did not suit her eyes at all.

 

“And that leads to my next. Why do you go so scantily clad in to battle? Are you hoping that the sight of your well-toned midriff and shapely thighs will defeat your enemies through arousal?” That satisfied two of my own desires – she was laughing outright again and I had racked up two more questions. The crimson stains on her cheeks were just icing on the cake.

 

“Oh no! He’s on to me!” She threw her arms in the air in mock horror and dissolved into giggles before she was able to answer properly, “Less clothing means fewer hand-holds.” Her mouth worked to keep a wry smile from becoming another roll of laughter. “But it is gratifying that you noticed.”

 

I took comfort in knowing that while she was adept at putting heat into my face, she was still hopelessly behind in this game. “How could I have missed it?”

 

“So that’s how it is?” There were too many teeth behind that smile and I wondered if I should just go find some red paint to pour over my head. Whatever was coming was going to be awful, I was sure. “The talented Anna was your first kiss. Was she also your first lover?”

 

Yes, red paint would have been easier. And probably would have gotten in my eyes so that I could not see the gleam of triumph in hers. “And what makes you think I know anything about that?” Sixteen. Don’t forget to breathe.

 

“You were a Turk,” was her only answer and cemented my question count.

 

“No, she was not.” Why had I demanded explanations? I swallowed hard and tried to ignore her gleeful enjoyment of my unease. “You are determined to be the death of me, aren’t you?” Seventeen.

 

“You’ll survive.” Heartless woman.

 

“There was a quick, messy encounter while vacationing in Costa del Sol when I was fifteen. I don’t remember her name and I never saw her again after that trip.” I wondered if my hair had turned red along with the rest of my head. “Does that answer satisfy your curiosity?”

 

Yuffie’s eyes were as close to falling out of her head as eyes get and she had her hand over her mouth to hide either shock or a wicked grin. I didn’t look closely enough to tell. I only had two more to go. Two more and I would never suggest this game again or even consent to playing it.

 

I was actually still too mortified to think of an original question and I felt that Yuffie needed to be able to take as good as she gave. “So what about you?” Just one more to go. Surely I could work it in somehow.

 

She went pink. A sort of flattering shade of pink that started somewhere around her ears and spread across her cheeks to the bridge of her nose. She twitched slightly, jutting her chin out just a bit before she said matter-of-factly, “I can’t tell you.”

 

“But you have to. It’s the rules.” Finally! Reticence and discomfiture!

 

She looked me in the eye, cheeks getting pinker and chin out and said again, “I can’t tell you that.”

 

“Yes, you can.” Unless it was a state secret or something and even then I would get an answer out of her. This was both intriguing and aggravating.

 

She rolled her eyes and insisted, “NO. I. CAN’T.”

 

“Why not?” Ahh, excellent. Twenty. I was done asking but the game wasn’t over until she answered.

 

She huffed a sigh before saying very carefully, “I can’t tell you because it hasn’t happened yet.”

 

I’m willing to bet that you could have heard a mouse walking along the tile for at least a full minute after she said that. And it was Yuffie that broke the silence.

 

“Does that answer satisfy your curiosity?” She traced the texture of the couch with one finger and fought back a smile.

 

“Lying is against the rules,” I reminded her as levelly as I could. I did not believe that she was lying at all but I had to make sure.

 

She choked off a nervous laugh and shook her head. “Nope, not lying.”

 

“Yuffie, you are living in this house with me. We share a bed every night. You HAVE to realize that at some point…,” This was awful. I started over. “Tell me that you would have told me this eventually.”

She rolled her eyes again and visibly relaxed. “Well YEAH! I would have told you when it came up, but you decided to recycle my own questions again so it came up NOW.”

 

I look of disbelief that I gave her was for her chiding me for lack of imagination, but she took it a little differently.

 

“I would have told you well before the naked and writhing stage. So you can wipe that ‘yeah-right’ look right off your face.” She crossed her arms over her chest and frowned at me.

 

I wondered what else was red other than paint that I could just go drown myself in but the only thing I could think of was blood. And the thought of blood coupled the mental image she’d just handed me was well over my limit of endurance.

 

I stood up and headed toward the stairs. Cold shower. A very long, very cold shower was the only thing I wanted right then.

 

“Forfeiting already?” there was laughter in her voice. “Well, you can’t expect to win everything!”

 

“I am not forfeiting. I asked twenty questions and you answered all of them. I win.” I really would have appreciated it if the floor had just opened up and swallowed me then and there.

 

Yuffie was silent and thinking as I walked up the stairs. “That’s a cheap trick, you know.”

 

I stopped at the top of the stairs and looked down at her. “Yes, but you are entertained for at least the rest of the afternoon which is probably how long it will take for me to regain my composure.”

 

She giggled, “Yeah well. People who win by cheating don’t get to claim a prize!”

 

“You are a piece of work, aren’t you? I made the rules and I’ll take my winnings out of your hide later.” I gave her a mock-glare.

 

She wagged a finger at me, “Promises, promises Vincent!”

 

Her laughter at the latest flare of color to my face followed me down the hall.


	15. Yuffie - 15

Showering was a difficult job. I couldn’t get my cast wet at all, so there was a whole extra ten minutes of time tacked on to the front of anything involving the shower. Ten minutes of plastic bags, tape, and petroleum jelly that all had to be carefully watched for leaks then taken off so that I could wash the goop off as carefully as possible.

It was a pain in the butt and made everything fun about a shower go right out the window. Add in the extra time for stripping down and getting dressed again and my favorite time of day became my most hated with the speed of a Golden Chocobo being chased by the Midgar Zolem.

 

I had been out of the hospital for eight days and I was so bored I was ready to go back to work just for SOMETHING TO DO. I would get to in a few day’s time, but those few days felt like a million years from where I stood.

Well, leaned really. Leaned on my crutches with wet hair and my mouth open, ready to call over the balcony to warn Vincent of the impending crash of crutches to the floor below. The one time I had failed to warn about dropping them, he had been right under the overhang and nearly got brained with one.

But this time, I bit off my call. I had noticed the day I came home that he had NOT had the fireman’s pole taken out. When I asked, Vincent said that it was structural and told me not to get any wild ideas. At the time I was about as far from wild ideas as I could be.

Not so anymore. I made my way over to the corner where the balcony and the catwalk met and surveyed the pole. This was completely doable, but I would have to think this through. Getting over to the pole would be the hardest part.

I listened carefully. From the sounds of clinking and rattling, Vincent was in the kitchen. That added an extra layer of complexity – I would have to stay as quiet as possible the whole time. Crutches and cast, I was still the greatest ninja that ever came from Wutai. This was going to be cake!

First, I subtracted the right crutch from the equation at all by leaning it on the railing. Then I used the left one to balance as I hopped up to sit on the top of the railing. I stacked the remaining crutch with its partner (giving both the evil eye because I hated them) before spinning in place and throwing both legs over the rail. I grabbed the pole with both hands, wrapped my bad leg around it as best I could and pushed off with my good one.

I landed perfectly on my right leg and only wobbled once. My thrilled, “TA-DAAA!” came a nanosecond after Vincent’s horrified, “SHIT!”

I did not actually SEE him jump the bar, but he had to have. I was still reacting to his uncharacteristically foul language when I realized that he was THISCLOSE and had me by the shoulders.

“What the HELL are you doing?” Was he panicking?

“Getting down here a lot faster than scooting down the stairs on my butt.” He was panicking. “Did you think I had jumped? Honestly, Vincent. I’m bored, not craz…URK!”

He crushed rest of my reply out of my lungs with a hug right then. “Damnit, Yuffie!”

His breath was coming hard and fast, like he’d run a marathon. Or just been scared half out of his mind. I felt a little bad about scaring him so much, but the guilt was numbed by the quiet thrill of realizing that he actually cared enough to flip right the hell out ‘cause he’d thought I was about to get hurt.

Hey, I’d spent a long time wishing that he’d realize I was alive and right in front of him. I knew I had his attention now, but it was still a nice warm fuzzy to know that he actively CARED.

“I will give you anything you want if you will just promise me to not do that again.” He’d relaxed a little after I’d switched my balancing grip from the pole to the back of his shirt. Enough for me to breathe at least, though I knew he could not understand what I said in response. There was an arm kind of wrapped around my head that muffled it.

“Anything?” I queried when he’d given me back my head.

“Name it.” He still looked scared and that was probably clouding his judgment. I realized that he couldn’t have been thinking right because he was not fool enough to actually offer me ANYTHING.

So out of warm fuzzies, I went easy on him. “I want potions. Four regular potions.”

He clearly did not think this was going easy, and was vocal about it. “No. Your doctors said that healing items were out of the question. Pick something else.”

“They said healing materia was not okay. Potions are doseable and they said NOTHING about those.” I had to shift my grip on his shirt then because he moved back just a touch to look down at me like he was going to argue. “You said anything!”

“No,” he denied me again this time with a shake of his head. But I detected what I thought might be a faltering will behind the word.

I had options. I could threaten to climb right back up and do it again. I could try puppy eyes, but those never worked. Neither did pouting. Hmm.

“Please?” I didn’t beg or attempt extra cuteness with the word. It wasn’t a demanding please or a sarcastic please. Just one hopeful little word.

THAT WORKED LIKE A CHARM!

He carried me to the couch with a sigh and left me there while he found his keys and went to whatever hiding place he had locked up all the healing stuff. He came back with a single potion and a shot glass.

“You get ONE shot of this a day.” He held up one finger and reemphasized, “ONE.”

I agreed happily, visions of backflips and somersaults filling my thoughts while the itchy tingle of the medicine coursed through me, partially knitting bone back together around surgical steel.

Vincent locked up the remainder of the bottle in his Super Secret Hiding Spot warned me not to go hunting for it.

That night I had the last pain killer that I would need for YEARS. Four days later, I lied and told Vincent that I was going to stay late at work to catch up knowing that he would head to Seventh Heaven for dinner and company. But really, I just wanted to make it home before he did.

He forgave the lie almost immediately and he tried to hold out on forgiving me for leaving the pieces of my cast on the kitchen table for him to find before he found me, perched on the balcony railing swigging the last drops of potion from the bottle.

It took him exactly four hours and seventeen minutes to properly get over it. Well, maybe it was more surrender than forgiveness, but I’m not picky. Besides, he was too distracted by the logistics of how I, at nearly ten inches shorter, managed to pin him against the wall for his Best and Most Unforgettable Birthday Make-Out and Groping Session.

But a really Great Ninja doesn’t give up her secrets. And she also doesn’t ALWAYS kiss and tell.


	16. Tifa - 16

I place blame for my taste in training music squarely on Yuffie’s shoulders. I never bothered with music at all until she became a fixture in our home. At first, the throbbing of her dance club music was distracting and gave her a distinct advantage when we would spar together. But it was not too long before I realized that it was a useful tool for pacing.

But the LYRICS! I remember just sitting and listening to it with her once.

“Sheesh! I do NOT need to know this man's opinion of his girlfriend's backside. Not in this level of detail!”

She'd laughed, “I think you over-estimate their relationship, Tifa.”

“And ARGH. I'm prety sure that there is no man alive who actually HAS the stamina levels that he's claiming.”

She had collapse in a heap of laughter over that and I had to join her. But, foul and inaccurate as it was, I ended up loving it. My tastelessly worded music choices were an excellent way to pace through a workout. Start with something just a little slower and work up to the really fast, pushing my own limits, then let the music set the tone to bring it back down carefully. Because if you have never had a muscle lock up on you from not being warmed up enough first you can consider yourself lucky. That is both painful and dangerous.

The Sunday after my date with Rude found me enjoying my auditory guilty pleasure and working up a fantastic sweat shadow-boxing in the back yard of Seventh Heaven. October was a perfect month weather-wise in Edge. We had the windows of the bar open airing out the whole place and the kids were being lazy vegitables upstairs. Due to their proximity, my music was coming through headphones.

I was not ready to answer a seven year old's questins about why an animal needed to be both liberated and domesticated. God, that was just embarrassing to THINK about! This stuff was AWFUL.

I was only about three or four songs in to this particular playlist when Rude, suit jacket off and sleeves rolled up to his elbows, blocked the kick that would have cracked him in the head. I was startled, but he grinned and made a 'bring it' motion with his hand.

I have no undue pride in my own ability but I had to admire his style. He never threw a single punch just blocked and evaded my hits, redirecting the energy behind them to empty air. It would have been frusterating had I actually wanted to damage him somehow. Instead, it was more than just a little arousing.

When the first song of what I considered the cool-down phase came on, the change of beat triggered an automatic response in me to and Rude was blocking another kick that he thought would be more powerful than it was. The excess force of his push overbalanced me and I landed on my back in the scrappy grass.

He stepped over to me and I saw him mouth the wrods, “You okay?”

I nodded that I was fine and he extended a hand to help me up.

Then I had one of those strange comedic moments where two completely unrelated things crash in to each other and create the most hysterical thing you have ever seen. He stood turned just a bit to one side with his hand extended downward to me, a half-smile on his face. The music in my ears paused for just a single beat before the performer siad the words, “I'm sexy and I know it.”

Laughing until tears welled in my eyes, I took his hand and let him pull me to my feet. I kept one hand over my mouth and the other wrapped around my stomach until I had regained enough control to look at him again. It was just TOO funny!

And it was too funny not to share. I took one of my earbuds out and hande it to him, still giggling a little. As I fiddled with the controls to replay the song, I explained, “Try to imagine my view of you looming over me looking pleased as punch with your hand out, okay?”

I hit play and waited through the silliness that was the beginning of the song, the urge to laugh building every second. “Then I hear this,” and the line played again.

His reaction did not help matters as the line was repeated twice in a row. After the first time, he jutted his chin out and spread his arms wide in a majestic acceptance of the statement.

He waited until my next rolls of laughter subsided in to giggles before asking, “You don't agree?”

Taking a deep breath and managed to say, “I never said THAT.”

“So you agree with the general assessment of my sexiness?” He spread his hands again and waited for an answer.

I grinned up at him and surveyed him critically. “Hmm. I would have to say yes.” I reached out and grabbed a handful of his sweat-damp dress shirt. Pulling him down to be on eye level with me I smiled at him as I whispered, “Tenof ten, actually.”

“Oh?” He quirked an eyebrow at me. “Then that makes you an eleven.”

I was about to be on the recieving end of what I hoped would be another greedy, hot kiss when a feminine little voice called down from the upstairs window, “Quit stalling and kiss her already!”

That was followed by a dismayed one scolding, “Marlene!”

All I got instead was a peck on my forehead and an excessive build-up of want in the back of my throat. I wthheld cookies from my charges for a full day in silent retailation.


	17. Vincnt - 17

I think that it is a general rule that Sunday mornings are the ideal ones to spend sleeping in and lazing around in pajamas. But Yuffie has never been one for rules and therefore enjoyed lazing around on Saturday mornings wearing whatever of MY clothes she has managed to procure. The Saturday in question, she had confiscated my dark red tee and gray flannel pants, the latter rolled up at least three times and still dragging the floor.

“Do you have to steal my clothes?” I didn’t mind that she did it, I just did not understand why she did it.

Even though it was just a few minutes until noon she scratched her head and yawned, answering, “Yes.”

“But why?” She didn’t answer right away, just tugged my ankle off of the opposite knee to make room for herself on my lap.

She settled in and snuggled close with one arm draped across my chest, yawning again. “’Cause they smell like you and are warmer than my jammies.”

This was what a Saturday morning ought to be. Yuffie still warm from bed, her hair standing at crazy angles, and doling out sleepy cuddles. I wrapped my arms around her and squeezed. “We could just get you your own warm pajamas.”

She gave a single ‘hmpf’ and asked my collarbone, “Are you going to wear them around so they smell right?”

“Probably not. Decency would forbid it if size difference did not.” I could feel her cheeks and jaw shift as she smiled at that. She smelled like strawberry shampoo and mint toothpaste. I could stay like this all day.

She sighed. “Still not ready to give up any of your most intimate secrets then?”

“No, not yet.”

I felt another grin and she snaked her other arm around my neck. “Me neither. So I’ll keep wearing your clothes.”

In the small hours of the morning on my birthday, we’d decided that before either of us did anything we would feel awful about later, we had to have some ground rules. She still pushed the limits, but if she didn’t she would not be Yuffie.

She’d also managed to make a noun in to a verb that morning. To ‘airship’ means exactly what it would to the two of us.

She stayed still for so long that I thought she had gone back to sleep. She had done it once before and kept me pinned to the chair for a very contented hour. But that was not to be on this particular Saturday.

“Are you done with stuff?” Just because she slept all night and half of the day did not mean that I did. Most Saturday mornings I would meet Reeve for coffee before doing such exciting things as going to the grocery store or dropping off dry cleaning.

“Not quite. I set an appointment for 1:15 to get my hair cut. Want to come with me?”

“Oh, HELL no!” She shot back so fast that she nearly fell off my lap. “I won’t go with you because you aren’t going!”

I had been expecting resistance. She was too impatient to let her own hair grow so she had become fascinated with mine. But when it was wet, it hit between my shoulder blades and was prone to tangled knots. “It is too long and completely out of control. It’s got to go,” I explained.

She just shook her head violently. “I said NO. I said hell no, actually.”

She was more against this than I’d expected. “Yuffie, I am tired of fighting with it all the time. It has to go.”

“You only fight with it because you leave it down and wild. If you would just pull it back…,” She was smoothing my hair back off my face with both hands leaving me to make sure that she didn’t go crashing to the floor.

I toyed with the idea of just letting go for a couple of seconds but decided against it. “I’m not going to put it in dog-ear ponytails.” We’d had that conversation before. In all fairness, she had been loopy on pain medication, but this was Yuffie. Completely sober she is capable of having ideas straight from an acid trip.

“So braid it! You can tuck in the weird flippy ends that way ‘cause a braid is tighter than just a ponytail,” she was pleased with this idea.

I was not as impressed. “No, that won’t work.” She asked why not and I enumerated the reasons, “First, I don’t know how to construct a braid. Second, I’m not going to learn because third, it will take too long every morning.”

She grinned and kissed me on the nose, “Then isn’t it wonderful you have me? I’ll just do it for you!” She wiggled free of my arms and bounced up the steps.

“You can’t be serious,” I called after her. “You won’t get up every day just to braid my hair and we both know it.” Mornings were not her favorite and then there was the little matter of her Saturday mornings (which were clearly optional.)

She called back, “Well you’ll be screwed on Saturdays, but if it will keep you from hacking it all off you can wake me up at 4am the other six days.” She reappeared at the top of the fireman’s pole, brush and comb in hand.

“You are serious, aren’t you?” I asked, a little thunderstruck as she slid down. “You agreed to not do that again,” I reminded her.

“Meh. Quicker,” was her dismissive reply. “And yes. I am very serious.” She nudged my shoulder to get me to sit up straighter and handed me two of her tiny little hair elastics. I was really glad that they were both brown instead of some of the other colors she had.

She brushed and pulled and tucked for about ten minutes before she reached around to grab one of the bands she’d handed me. She squeaked when it snapped and I handed her the second one. Once tied off, she smoothed the braid with her hand, tucked a few stray hairs in and announced, “Done! And you’ve lived through it!”

This was not the first time she’d had her hands in my hair but all the previous times, she had been playing with it. She’d pulled on it, put it up in a pair of ponytails high on my head, and twisted pieces of it around her fingers. But having her diligently working on it had been so relaxing I was getting groggy.

“If you are willing to do this every morning…,”

“Except Saturday!” she interrupted.

“Except Saturday, I will put off getting it cut.” I had no objection to starting every day with her hands in my hair. None at all.

She gave a whoop and cheered, “YAAAY!” She glanced at the clock then and said, “Yikes! Is that the time?” She then made a dash for the laundry room and started digging through her pile of clean clothes.

It was five until one. “Yeah, why?” Other than I needed to call and cancel my appointment, I couldn’t think of what would concern her about the time.

She came back out in jeans and socks, hitching my shirt up and tying it in a knot behind her back. “I need a haircut. It’s too long and out of control!” She ruffled her hands in her hair and it fell into place. She grinned as she pulled on her shoes. “You coming?”

With my best sigh of long-suffering, I followed her towards the front door. Stopping to shrug in to my shoulder holster and throw a button-up over it I started, “You are so completely…”

“WONDERFUL! I know,” she tugged on my gauntleted hand and giggled. “Come on. Don’t want to be late!”


	18. Vincent - 18

Denzel and Marlene are really great kids. Given the things they have endured in their short lives, it makes their positive dispositions even more admirable. Marlene is the right combination of Barret’s take-no-prisoners attitude and Tifa’s caretaking. She manages us all flawlessly.

Denzel reminds me of myself in some ways – he is quiet and reserved. But unlike me, he already knows at the age of 11 that backing down is not always an option. This leads to some terrific arguments between him and Marlene, and I was thankful that I did not have to live under the same roof as their dramatics.

My time was still my own to do with as I pleased and it happened to please me to kid-watch for Tifa the Friday of the fall school holiday. She needed the break as those arguments between Marlene and Denzel had been frequent earlier in the week. They did not really need someone to look after them, but Marlene had expressed an interest in learning to shoot and Barret had called me.

For him, the act of aiming and firing was nearly biological. For me, it was a teachable skill. I had begun to learn at the age of 8, so her age was no barrier. She was smarter at 7 than I was double that. For her first lesson, I took my old service revolver and Yuffie’s standard-issue WRO handgun for her to take apart and put back together.

While she worked at that task, Denzel handed me my ass at some racing-based video game. Denzel was still shy of me and didn’t have a lot to say, but I was pleased that he was comfortable enough to suggest the game and then tell me all of the ways that I sucked at it afterwards.

All in all, it was not a bad way to spend a morning. Marlene managed the modern weapon much better than the older one, which was not surprising at all. I left the newer one with her for her to keep taking apart and reassembling when I headed home.

Yuffie and I had fallen in to one semi-dangerous habit. The wide spot directly in front of our front door had become a catch-all. Shoes, bags, keys, umbrellas, mail, and all manner of things piled up there. A week before, we had both gotten sick of it and cleared everything out only to start piling things on the table again immediately.

When I let myself in, I noticed that she had left two of her water bottles there. One full, the other nearly empty. I dropped my keys and a stack of birthday cards for Yuffie and grabbed the full one. I took a long drink of it and wondered at her owning a pink bottle. She hates pink generally, but as she had at least ten of these things I chalked it up to a collector’s desire for completeness.

I checked over my service revolver before putting it away in the middle desk drawer. Then I checked my email and had lunch, before I settled in with a stack of maps and a list of coordinates that Reeve had asked me to sort out. I worked for about an hour, swilling every so often from Yuffie’s absurd pink bottle.

I was so absorbed in what I was doing that at first I did not take much notice of the tingling. It became distracting when it reached my face and started to itch. It did not take long after that for it to become an all-consuming burn right under my skin.

I had been perfectly comfortable moments before, but now I was on fire and watched in fascination and horror as I began to seep black water from my pores. All other sensation was erased when a bone-splitting pain erupted behind my eyes and drove me to my knees. The murky water rolled off of me in waves now, pooling on the floor and wracking coughs tore red-stained tar from lungs. Finally, my vision blurred, then whited out.

“ _Well, look who finally got here. I’ve been waiting for you.”_

“Aerith.” Her light laugh sounded like far away bells.

“ _Just another minute. Rocks in the river of time get good at waiting, right?”_

I felt the touch of her hand on my shoulder.

“ _She’s coming. Time is precious now. Don’t waste a second of it.”_

A gentle shove and the parting words, _“Look after yourself, Vincent.”_

“… so SICK of finding you half dead on the floor! Please, please, _please_ don’t be really dead!” Panic and fear were laced through Yuffie’s voice. I felt one of her hands check my wrist for a pulse then move to my neck to do the same.

“I’m not dead.” But I did sound like I had been eating glass and the dry, raw sensation in my throat set me coughing again. I struggled to my hands and knees and the room spun wildly when I sat back on my heels.

“Whoa!” Yuffie caught me in her arms, holding most of my weight with her shoulder. “Slow down! Breathe!”

Breathing brought more coughing and the coughing brought aching ribs and the metallic tang of blood in my mouth.

“Oh no. No no no no!” I could not tell if Yuffie was scared or angry but both seemed reasonable. “Vicnent you are coughing up blood.” Worried. That was worried.

It took what felt like forever to finally catch my breath and croak out a request for water. Yuffie left me sitting stronger and straighter to comply, and I took in the mess that was my office.

Maps, papers, and random desk debris were scattered across the floor. There weer a pair of deep gouges in the front of one drawer and the pull was dangling at a drunken angle. Other than a few lingering flecks of blood on papers, floor, and my shirt, there was no sign of whatever the black fluids had been. I pulled myself up and dropped into the desk chair.

I drank deeply from the glass of water Yuffie brought in. She knelt in front of me chewing on her bottom lip, concern drawing a line between her eyebrows as she looked around at the mess. Her eye caught on something, she stood and started to reach for something on my desk.

Her expression changed from worry to outright horror and she snatched up her pink water bottle. Eyes wide and breathing fast she whispered, “Vincent, what did you do?”

Her fear had me starting to panic. What did I do? “What was in that?”

“Ooooh god! You drank it?” She made some sort of choked sound between a scream and a groan when I nodded the affirmative. “Then what… how? You can’t be…. It should have killed you. But it didn’t. And…” Through the lingering fuzz in my brain, I wondered if this is what a reactor looked like right before it melted down. I decided that yes, probably but without the hand-flapping.

Confusion changed to curiosity then to determination and she looked around again. She took y glass from me and set it on the edge of the desk before she grabbed the boning knife I used for opening letters. Taking my hand in hers she frowned a little and said, “Sorry about this.”

Then she slit my right index finger open. Nothing like a little pain to clear up a muddled head, right? “OW! What the hell?”

I jerked my hand away but she caught it again and clamped her fingers around the knuckle of the one she’d cut. Forcing my arm over my head she said, “Stop and listen to me. You probably thought that you were drinking just regular tap water out of that bottle but you weren’t.”

“No, really?” The knife was dull and my finger was throbbing. Everything on me hurt. I was exhausted, weak, and I didn’t know why. I tried to get my hand back but she wasn’t having it.

“I said stop.” There was still fear in her voice and eyes, but she was trying so hard to sound calm. “It wasn’t tap water. It came from the Sector 5 church.”

For a long second, the planet stopped turning. But Yuffie did not stop talking so I didn’t stop listening.

“I kept it out of sentiment and carried it every time I traveled. I guess I unpacked it and left it out the other day and you, not knowing what it was, helped yourself.” She smiled a little and continued, “But you know what Aerith’s spring does. It purges Jenova’s taint from anything it touches. You don’t have to drink it for it to work.”

She glanced up at my hand and licked her lips. “But you’ve touched it before. You even got submerged in it when Barret tripped you on purpose and you went head over feet in to the spring itself.”

Another smile, weaker this time and with a trembling jaw. My head was spinning again but not from any physical cause. She was right. I’d delivered water from Aerith’s spring to all points on the northern continent, too. I’d been in contact with it time and again. To anyone free of Jenova, drinking it was just like drinking fresh spring water – it was a little sweet and very cool from what I’d been told. But it did not make reasonably healthy people sick.

Yuffie glanced back at the hand that she was still holding high. She blinked several times and took a deep breath before she brought it down to my eye level. The bleeding had slowed to sluggishness but when she loosened her grin on my knuckle, it throbbed and began to bleed freely again. Plenty of time had past for the wound to have closed already, but it hadn’t. I could only stare at the blood dripping off my hand an on to the floor.

Yuffie came back in the room (when had she left?) with her box of first aid stuff and patched me up quickly. While she worked, she kept stealing glances at my face.

“What?” I finally asked, still with a bit of rawness in my throat.

“You look different,” she answered, shrugging one shoulder. “Not as pale. And your eyes are more rust than fire engine.”

I let her finish before I stood up to go look. I was not as wobbly on my feet as I had thought I would be and standing up I did not feel as weak. She started packing up the bandages and I stepped around her on my way to the door, but my foot connected with something hard and round, sending it rolling across the floor to bump into the wall.

I crossed and picked it up. Six months before I had not even known I had it and now it seemed like I didn’t even need it. I closed my eyes and felt within my mind for Galian. Still there but confused. There was a void where the Death Gigas usually waited. And Hellmasker had left behind nothing but a foul taste.

I opened my eyes and looked down at the green, blue, and white orb. I hummed a little before crossing the room again to stand behind Yuffie. “Here,” I set the Protomateria on the desk next to her box. “Happy Birthday?”

She forbade me from presents after that, telling me that I was really bad at it and the creepy factor was too high. But she kept it in her bedside table drawer alongside the empty pink bottle and one of my red headbands for years.


	19. Yuffie - 19

He hadn’t spoken in three days. Not to me, not to anyone. His phone stayed on toe the p of the filing cabinet in his office, turned off and face down. Tifa had called me on my birthday and asked me to come by the bar to pick up a huge package from Barret, but I didn’t go.

That’s how worried I was. I did not go get a mystery birthday present from someone who is REALLY amazing at gifts because Vincent was in full on crisis mode and wouldn’t (couldn’t?) talk.

He still moved through his usual routines and habits like there was absolutely nothing weird going on, but he never said a single word. At first, I had just let him be quiet. He’s not much of a talker anyway and from what we’d pieced together in the first couple of hours after I’d found him, he’d just had everything that he thought he knew about his life broken in to bits.

In a way I was glad that I’d not let him ever get very far in to the ‘I’m going to outlive you by millions of years’ conversations. It had bothered him, but not enough to press the issue. Now. Well, now it was not an issue anymore. He’d thought that he would still be roaming this planet in ten thousand years time, looking just under thirty and knowing so much about people and things that there would be no one left he would be able to talk to because no one would remember anything that he remembered.

I had a different idea of him eventually evolving in to nothing more but a giant head, but that was just me being me.

And on that Monday night after another silent day, I sort of wished that I’d let him angst about it at me just so that now I would have a sure-fire opening to talk to him.

Because I was LOST. Even on a good day, I’m never sure what he is thinking about. I love him, but I couldn’t read him at all then. I imagine that he was confused, hurt, curious, angry, and a heap of other things that tied his tongue in knots and sealed his lips shut. I didn’t know what to do and it was HURTING to see him like this and not be able to do anything about it.

Correction. Not know WHAT to do about it. Vincent’s an intimidating sort of guy. He can’t help that – shyness, introspection, and a face that settles into a neutral expression instead of a smile doom him to looking frosty and unapproachable. But it made it hard to know how to respond to him.

The last thing that I would have ever wanted to do is hurt him somehow. Annoy him, exasperate him, make him wonder about his own sanity, gross him out, turn him on, drive him to drink, or be the cutest thing he’d ever seen? Sure! Where do I sign up? But hurt him? Never.

But I had to do something. Three days was just too long for anyone to not talk after a traumatic event.

I’ll be the first to admit that I didn’t really think much about what I was doing until I’d gotten well on my way to doing it. Classic Yuffie-esque behavior and he would have surely rolled his eyes or tried to tell me I was crazy or something.

I had loaded up the dishwasher and thrown a load of laundry in after dinner, then I’d gone looking for him. Calling for him was pointless because unless he dropped something or sneezed, I would never find him. I found him flat on his back on the deck, staring at the sky.

That wasn’t a weird place to find him, and it was relieving. We’d spent lots of nights out here watching the constellations rotate until way too late for me to get up and function at normal human hours the next day. We’d talk, laugh, and make tacky jokes about the constellations (most of whom lent their names if not their shapes to the Summon materia.)

And yeah, duh. Smokin’ make outs were included in those after-dark fresh air activities. Just because there were Rules about these things doesn’t mean either of us joined a monastery. Sheesh.

Finding him there felt like an invitation somehow, so I took it. I walked around and flopped back, one arm under my head and my legs pointing the opposite direction from his. I scooted closer to him until I could feel the warmth of his face next to mine.

“It’s cold out here.” I observed. He didn’t answer of course and I sighed.

“I won’t even pretend to understand what is going on in that head of yours, Vince. It must be pretty heavy stuff, though for you to be so quiet. And don’t worry! I’m not going to demand that you talk to me but I do kind of hope that you’ll listen for a minute.”

I’d just gotten started and I didn’t know where I was going with this. So I gave a big old sigh, sent a silent prayer to Leviathan (with a nod to her constellation) and forged ahead.

“You’ve had some pretty spectacularly crappy stuff happen to you. Epic levels of bullshit, actually. And that’s just not fair at all. But,” I paused for a second and tried to frame what I wanted to say. “But while I’m sure it isn’t much help probably, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere and I’m here if you need me.”

He still didn’t say anything, but I felt him shift his shoulders some. At least he was hearing me and hearing was good. Listening would be better, but I’d take what I could get. I hoped that he would listen, too and I think that hope is what made the next words slip out of my mouth before I could check them.

“I’m not going anywhere ‘cause there’s not much that I wouldn’t do for you if I thought it would help. I’d have all the lights in the city turned off if you didn’t want to be seen. I’d steal, lie, cheat, and bribe anybody alive if I thought it would keep you safe and happy and right here with me if that is where you wanted to be.”

I laughed at myself, “Yeah, I know. Rich, coming from the likes of me! Rich, but true.”

“And if some monster came over that railing right now, I’d tear his throat out with my bare hands to keep it away from you.” Of course, right then a single small night-bird flapped up and landed on one of the planter boxes and I jumped. “Birds, however are different and you have to defend yourself.”

He let a single puff of air out through his nose. I wondered if that was him laughing at me or the cold air making him sniffy. “And if you could just time floor-directed collapses a little better, I’d catch you, tell you to stop that silliness, stand you up, brush you off, and take you for burritos instead.”

He shifted again, but I didn’t know what he had moved because I was busy staring at Leviathan’s stars and hoping that my messed up rambling was getting my point across. I rearranged myself to fold my legs pretzel style and launched into speech again.

“And when you are DONE, and you’ve just had it and are out of every ounce of strength and hope and can’t take another step, I’ll just turn you in to a frog and carry you for a while even though frogs are kind of gross and slimy. I’d even be nice enough to kiss you to turn you back into yourself, because we princesses are handy like that.”

I felt his hand in my hair without realizing he was moving. He wound a couple of pieces around his fingers in what I CALLED a possessive gesture. What I really thought was that it was the sweetest, most comforting thing that anybody had ever done for me ever in the history of things that were done.

I sighed again, “Really, there isn’t much I wouldn’t do for you if you wanted me to. It wouldn’t have to help, you’d just have to ask. Or leave a note on the fridge: ‘kill Emerald Weapon, 6:53pm January 1.’ You wouldn’t have to ask either, really. Stare a little too long at a first edition of some horribly boring book and it’ll probably end up here. I’d tell you that I stole it, you would be horrified, then I’d say, ‘PSYCHE!’ and you would call me crazy or stupid or impulsive or immature. It’d be great and you would love me as much as I love you and we could have stupid fights about who loved who more.”

Okay, that got out of hand and it was time to shut up. I was doing an awful lot of sighing during this one-sided conversation and I hoped that my couple of deep, calming breaths sort of felt like sighs instead of like deep, calming breaths. Because why would I need those anyway, right?

I stared at Leviathan’s band of stars and thought what an EXCELLENT help she’d been with the saying things. Then I felt kind of bad ‘cause it’s my fat mouth that did the saying.

I felt the tip of his nose, frosty cool, on my cheek for a split second before his lips took its place. “You can’t kill Emerald Weapon on the first of January. That is Reeve and Peter’s wedding and I’m not going alone.”

He kissed my cheek again and I grinned like an idiot. It wasn’t much, but it was a start!


	20. Vincent - 20

Yuffie’s phone had rung just a few minutes earlier. She answered with more happiness than a call from Tifa usually warranted. After a very short conversation that included some squealing and Yuffie flew out the front door before she had even properly hung up.

Reeve gave me a curious look from his place at the bar and I shrugged before explaining, “She’s waiting on her dress for your reception. It must be here.”

Reeve laughed, “It must be something then!”

“No clue. I wasn’t consulted,” I told him with another shrug. She could go in a ratty tee and her squid hat and still be breathtaking. “It must be green, though. She had to rush-order boot laces and they are green.”

“Boot laces? She’s showing up at a black tie event in a pair of those boots?” Reeve was incredulous.

I opened my mouth to respond, but the front door banged open and closed again and Yuffie came sailing back in. She rounded the corner into the kitchen and ran headlong into me. I caught her before she fell over backwards.

“Yeek!” she steadied herself by grabbing my forearms. “Nice catch!”

“You do not have to come back to tell me you are leaving. I’ve deduced that you are headed to Seventh Heaven, too,” I smiled at her. We’d covered this ground before when she’d gone barrelling out of the house with no explination.

She gave me a glowing grin and waved one hand dismissively, “That’s NOT why I came back, Spookypants!”

I raised one eyebrow at her. She tugged on my arm and I gladly bent down to meet her eager, slightly parted lips. Too few pleasurable seconds and she left me, still bent over as she called from the hall, “Later!”

The door slammed again, I rolled my eyes, and Reeve erupted into laughter again. “She never changes, does she?”

I shook my head with amusement, “Not in fundamentals. She is Yuffie and yes, she’s wearing the boots.” It had taken her about three hours to get the black laces out and the green ones put in. It had been fascinating to watch her get each loop turned the right way. “Barret sent her a new pair of cream-colored one's for her birthday. She was wearing the old ones when she got shot.”

Reeve winced at the mention of Yuffie’s injuries. “Is she really as fine as she seems?” Reeve had felt a sense of brotherly responsibilty towards Yuffie ever since the two had first laid eyes on each other. The role of older and younger sibling seemed to sprout from a genuine meeting of the minds. Unlike Cid who tried to control her, Reeve would worry and fuss but ultimately whatever she’d decided to do, he would let her. And follow it with I-told-you-so’s or congratulations, depending on what the situation warranted.

I leaned against the counter and nodded, “I think so. Her biggest complaint comes from the scars right now.”

Reeve knit his eyebrows together and questionsed, “Vanity?”

“No. She doesn’t seem to mind how they look.” I crossed my arms and explained, “They are huge scars and are not as flexible as the rest of her skin. I gather that the cold makes it pull and itch. Mentally, she's tougher than anyone else I've ever met. Though her facial expression when I mention the state her leg was in right afterwards is priceless.” I chuckled at the memory of it. There is a comic that runs in the Edge newspaper about a small boy and his stuffed tiger. When the boy has to eat his dinner, he makes an overblown disgusted face. Yuffie can do that with sound effects.

Reeve shook his head and leaned on his elbows. “And what about you, Vincent? Are you doing well?”

I’d had the long version of this conversation with Yuffie already and I wasn’t going to go through the entire thing again. Reeve would have to be content with the short version.

I uncrossed my arms and rested the heel of my hand on the edge of the countertop. “I’m fine. I had already decided to move forward, now I just have to do that while avoiding speeding busses, venomous snakes, and angry mobs.” I laughed quietly, “Yuffie's even got me working on a... what'd she call it? Bucket list?”

That had been an entertaining conversation, actually. She'd been reading something for work one night and, frustrated with whatever it was, tossed it down and looked at me before suggesting that I make a list of things I'd like to do before I died in my sleep at he age of 80 (she later amended that to 112 for the sake of accuracy.) Initially, I thought the idea kind of silly. Then she showed me hers. Twenty years old and she had a list as long as her arm of things that she wanted to do before she died.

Reeve gaped and deadpanned, “Your sense of humor is unchanged, I see. It is as cracked as ever.”

He was thoughtful for a few seconds before he asked, “Do you know why I'm here, Vincent?”

“I wondered if there was a reason. What do you want?” I like Reeve, but he's a businessman. I had agreed to do just about everything he'd asked me to do, but he'd never come to the house to ask. This seemed a little formal.

“There is nothing I want you to do, just something I need to make sure you know. Yuffie already knows and I'm sure is going to handle it far better than we'd expect her to.” He paused and ran a hand through his hair. “The wedding is strictly private, you know that. Private and casual. But the reception that night, while not open to the public, will be attention grabbing.”

I looked at him sideways and frowned. “What are you saying, exactly?”

“The press will be there. In droves.” He held out a hand to halt the complaint I was about to lodge. “I know. I don't care for it either. They will have extremely limited access at the party, but outside I'm sure it will be a zoo and I can't stop them. If they aren't on WRO grounds, I can't have them removed.”

WRO grounds extended to the foot of the stairs outside the building. The courtyard and surrounding open space were considered public areas.

“Vincent, you know that the citizens of Edge protect the people they consider theirs. If asked, not a one of them knows where I live or what you look like. Seventh Heaven doesn't even exist to the regulars and Strife Delivery belongs to some red-headed guy looking for attention with the name. But this is going to be different.” Reeve looked about as thrilled as he had the first time he'd watched Cid gut a fish.

I groaned and rolled my eyes, “It is going to be a media circus, they will come from everywhere, and some of them will have mingling access.”

“Exactly.”

We looked at each other silently stewing for several minutes. Edge was an excellent place for a 'hero' to live because the citizenry was perfectly willing to lie and misdirect anyone they thought was up to no good. Tifa and Cloud needed the screen on a daily basis, but all of us knew the reason we were able to walk down the street unhindered was because it was Edge, and Edge Protects Its Own.

Finally, I asked, “What else? This isn't surprising, so there must be something else.”

“The ambassador from Wutai had RSVP'd that he's coming with his entourage. Godo will not be coming,” he forestalled my question before I asked. “If the ambassador comes, Yuffie's father will not need to. But no doubt that the ambassador will,” he paused for a second, searching for a way to be diplomatic.

“Say it. You aren't on the record in this house,” and I didn’t want any beating around the bush. This could be a very real problem.

“A right damned asshole to her.” Reeve looked sheepish, then smiled. “Gods that felt good! That guy is such a son of a bitch!”

I raised my eyebrows. I hadn't met the ambassador from Wutai, but at the mention of his name, Yuffie made that face with the sound effects and feigned death. “And I can't just shoot him, can I?”

Reeve laughed out loud again, “I'm letting you turn up obviously armed on the condition that you don't kill anyone unless they shoot first!”

“And for that, you are cruel,” I leveled at him. The suit I had for the occasion made a shoulder holster useless so whatever I chose to arm myself with would be very visible. Reeve was breaking every rule by letting it slide, too.

He raised an eyebrow at me, “Protective of your ninja?” I narrowed my eyes at him. “No worries, your secret is safe with me.”

There was a knock at the front door just then. Pushing himself backwards and climbing off the barstool Reeve said, “And that will be my protector,” he referenced Peter, his fiancé and bodyguard. He headed off down the hall, but poked his head back around the corner after a second. “Try to talk Yuffie out of the boots?”

I just laughed and he went on his way. Looking around, I realized I had nothing to do. There was not a single thing needed to be done around the house and Yuffie probably wouldn’t be home for hours. I tried watching tv, but midday television is tedious at best and the stuff of nightmares at worst, so I gave that up. I checked email, flipped through the newspaper, picked up and put down 3 different books, and thought about organizing the bedroom closet.

That is when it hit me. I was bored. I threw myself on to the couch and marveled at the feeling. I honestly couldn’t remember the last time I had been at loose ends over what to do with myself. Nothing sounded appealing in the least, so I just stayed where I was. My mind wandered around unimportant things and I eventually dozed off. I was getting used to needing a full nights rest, but I still woke too early most of the time.

It was Yuffie’s suppressed giggle that woke me, but I didn’t open my eyes. I waited until I could sense that her face was hovering over mine before I popped my eyes open and said, “Boo.”

Scaring the socks off her never gets old. It isn’t so much that I want to scare her, just that the reactions she has are so exaggerated and funny. This time was no different. She attempted to jump backwards, but only managed to drop on to the coffee table with a yelp.

“Hey! That’s not cool!” She was still wide-eyed, but her voice held the beginnings of laughter. “Why are you always picking on me like that?”

I bit back a laugh. “Because it’s funny,” I reasoned as I swung my legs to the floor and sat up. I caught sight of a pile of deep green and off-white ruffles on the chair. “Is that your dress or a dememted cupcake?”

Yuffie looked in the direction I indicated, “Dress, you dork. It doesn’t fit, though. I have to have it taken in due to having no boobs to speak of.” She screwed her face into an expression of annoyance. “But, it is a pretty color and I think it’s going to match my laces perfectly!”

“Reeve isn’t crazy about the idea of you wearing the boots.” I extended my hand to rest palm up on her knee and she automatically put her hand in mine. It was something she didn’t even think about, but it meant the world to me.

She wrinkled her nose and gave her opinion of, “Reeve is a twit.”

“I thought you would say as much. But if he asks, I tried to talk you out of it.”

She nodded once before narrowing her eyes. “You know that your shenanigans cheated you out of a kiss, right?”

I tried to look dejected and repentant but I either failed or she wasn’t having it. She scoffed at me so I changed my approach. “Well, it is supposed to be the princess who is woken with a kiss. At least that is how all the fairy tales have laid it out.”

That got under her skin. “FAUH! Fairy tales? With wimpy little maidens in too-long dresses getting tricked into obvious traps by people they have no business trusting? Gimme a break!”

I hummed thoughtfully. “That’s right. I forgot that you are a modern woman who is in no need of rescuing.” She agreed with this and I continued, fighting back a smile, “And you certainly do not need a knight in shining armor making you weak in the knees. That might distract you from all of your rescuing other people, right?”

“Precisely!” She lifted her chin high and gave a sharp nod.

“Then I’ll just be going. No need to clutter up your palace with my unnecessary self.” I stood up and began to walk away.

“Hold it there, buster!” She still had my hand and was trying to tug me back. I resisted but gave in to the desire to laugh then. She stuck out her tongue. “I don’t NEED any of that fairy tale crap.” She tugged harder at my hand and I gave in, dropping back down on the couch with a groan of defeat.

She half-stood and leaned over until her forehead was against mine. “I don’t NEED it at all. But that weak-in-the-knees business? I think I might WANT some of that.”

“Oh? Well, I guess I could manage that.” She closed her eyes and waited for me to kiss her but she didn’t get what she was expecting. Instead of a kiss, I reached around her and ticked the back of her knees. She jumped, squealed, and kicked me in the leg.

“EVIL! Clearly you are the bad guy in this story!” She stalked off in the direction of the stairs, grabbing her fabric cupcake before passing behind the couch.

“Clearly I am. And there’s not much hope of reform, I’m afraid,” I shook with laughter. It was just too much fun to mess with her, sometimes.

As usual, there is always a price to pay. As she passed behind me, she grabbed my braided hair and yanked it down, forcing my head to lay flat on the back of the couch. “If you can’t be reformed, then you have to be defeated.”

She planted a big noisy kiss right on my lips and followed it up by licking the side of my face, hairline to jaw. That was one of the most revolting and hilarious things I had ever experienced and sounds of disgust were punctuated with laughter as she skipped off up the stairs, leaving me to wipe her spit off on the couch.

“Victory is mine,” she crowed from the relative safety of the balcony. Then she gave me a rude hand gesture and ducked down the hall when I threw a pillow at her.

The three days that I didn’t talk, I was trying to reconcile myself to the fact that I no longer had time. It had started with that idea, too. I didn’t have time anymore. The more I thought about it, the bigger it got. I had so very little time. I had NO time. Seconds slipped through my fingers and felt like days wasted on nothing at all. I had no TIME.

In comparison with countless thousands of years, a mere 50 or 60 starts to look like nothing at all. I admit that I got caught in a loop of catastrophic thinking, I had no time and I didn’t know what to do about it. So I wasted time brooding over it.

Yuffie had let me have space and time, but had grown increasingly fidgity and worried. I didn’t even see it, so caught was I in my downward spiral. One of the wonderful things about Yuffie is that she will not worry iwthout at least trying to do semething about it.

So, along came Yuffie, rambling and fumbling her way through my silence. Not demanding a reply, not expecting one, either. She reached through the whirlpool and pulled me back to reality by making me laugh. It was her insistance on me protecting myself from birds that really did it. I luaghed, then though she didn't notice it. If she had she would not have kept talking.

She had tried many times in the year she spent fliting between my home in Kalm and Seventh Heaven to tell me that she loved me. I flatly refused to let her. I would interrupt her, walk away, or hang up the phone to avoid those word in her voice.

I hope that whatever celestial force was in charge of irony and really bad jokes was getting a kick out of those being the only words that I wanted to hear. I also hope that whoever or whatever is in charge of those things was enjoying the fact that she had not even attempted to say them to me.


	21. Tifa - 21

I was behind on one of those things that you put off by convincing yourself that you have plenty of time. You know, those things that you always think will be a cinch and end up being a nightmare because you had plenty of time so you put it off.

Until you were so close to out of time that it became imperative to get the job done otherwise you would be going to a dear friend’s wedding reception in a paper sack and high heels two sizes too small.

 

Yeah, that was me. At least according to Yuffie, who for once in her life was actually on top of things, I was going to be donning a paper bag. I doubted this, but I did not doubt that finding what I needed was going to be a nightmare. I had about a month until the party and I did not even own a curling iron any more let alone have anything remotely formal.

She tried on her dress and I had to admit that while it was not my idea of black tie formal, on her it was perfect. Paired with her boots and socks and the right hairstyle, she was going to outshine all of us. Which would not be hard if I had to resort to a paper bag.

Yuffie insisted that entire forests would have to be sacrificed in order to make me decent in the recycling. And as we did not possess the technology to do a temporary, partial boob transfer to her, we were just going to have to go shopping.

Yuffie honestly only cares about her figure at all when she has to shop for herself. She is limited to the juniors section (and the acid colors) or she has to keep a tailor on her personal payroll to alter everything. I’m only a couple of inches taller and I have my own issues with fit, but Yuffie has to have everything shortened, taken in, let out, or otherwise altered so that she doesn’t look like a floozy or like she is wearing a tent. Even her dress for the reception was going to have to be taken in through the chest which had prompted her to double check about the boob transfer.

I wish I could say that I hated the shopping part, but it was actually fun. I had never really had to have anything like this before. Sure, I’d been super-girly when I was younger but times change and I was super-practical now. I approached the purchase of formalwear with the idea of it being a novel sort of adventure. And with Yuffie in tow, I was positive that I would not end up exposing myself overmuch. She seemed to think that if she couldn’t have a chunk of my chest then no one else needed to see it.

And I agreed! The last thing I wanted was to laugh too hard and one of the girls to come flying out. YIKES.

It did not take long for us to have narrowed my choices to a single color. I really just wanted black and Yuffie was all ready to go with that until on a whim, I tried on a champaigne colored thing with a hemline like a mermaid’s tail. The dress was awful, but Yuffie jumped off the black ship and refused to see me in anything but that creamy, slightly shiny off-white. I thought I was just humoring her, but it really started growing on me. Dress after dress piled up for me to try and I swear that by the time she was done, Yuffie had gotten every single one in the store for me to try on.

So the real work began. Yuffie parked herself on a handy chair and critiqued every last one brutally. I kept changing. In between dresses, Yuffie got me all caught up with her.

“Vince asked the other day if there was going to be dancing at this shindig. When I told him yes, guess what he said? He says, ‘Well then, I guess I’ll have to teach you.’ Can you believe that?” She cocked her head to the side and assessed the latest gown, “Your hips are lovely as they are and do not need to be jewel encrusted.”

I laughed and replied, “Well, your version of dancing is more nightclub than ballroom. Have you been dragging him to clubs?”

“No! Good grief, he’d never go there! I had a sudden attack of dancing while I was folding laundry one day.” Her voice changed to truculent, “He said it wasn’t dancing at all. Advertising! He called it ADVERTISING!”

I didn’t even bother to stifle laughter. Vincent was right, in a way. Yuffie taking the dance floor was more than just a little suggestive, though she would probably never see it. She just moved as the music took her. And that was usually in the direction of loose-jointed undulations that set anyone with taste for young, vivacious women panting.

“Given the circumstances, I’ll grant him targeted advertising,” I laughed as I swapped out dresses again.

“It’s not funny, Tifa.” She sounded hurt. “Now he wants to teach me some archaic dance that he says is easy to learn. He says that it is classic and elegant.” I could hear her hands wringing in her voice. “I’ve never managed classy or elegant for more than ten minutes before I fell over something or got so nervous I burped.”

I zipped up and surveyed myself in the mirror briefly before walking out again. “I’m sure you’ll be fine. Take it as a compliment! Vincent, who doesn’t even drum his fingers in time with the most earwigging songs around, wants to dance with you. AND he is willing to try to teach you.” She looked like this wasn’t much of a compliment so I cut to the chase. “You’ll get to spend hours and hours of your free time in his arms without needing to invent an excuse.”

Her mouth made a little o shape and her eyes lit up. “Oh. Yes. Very right. This sounds wonderful. Bring on the lessons!”

I firmly believed that the reason he wanted to teach her at all was the reason that she embraced readily. But I had no way to confirm it so I kept the idea to myself, instead directing her attention to the latest from the pile of finery.

“I like this one! I just don’t like that weird buckle thing in the middle there.” She came over and gave the dress a little tug at the waist to make it fit like it should. “See, it’s just too much.”

She was right. The dress would be perfect without that goofy detail. It was sleeveless, with tidy pleats following the line of the modest V-neck in the front and back. The only fullness for the floor-length skirt was from the pleats loosening where they met in the center front and back. The fabric was shot through with a few threads of gold – not enough to be gaudy but enough to catch the light and sparkle just a little.

I fiddled with the awful little metal buckle. “It may be removable. I’ll ask.” We got the attention of one of the women in the shop and she confirmed that it was completely optional, showing how everything fit together so that it would be removable. I was sold. I changed and made arrangements for a proper fitting (Yuffie was not the only one that had to have alterations. She just had to have more of them than the rest of us.) I left content with having gotten all caught up.

Yuffie and I had lunch and she went on her way after that. Not long after she left, I had an unexpected visitor arrive at Seventh Heaven.

It was unusual to see Rude hanging around in the middle of the afternoon on a weekday, but I was not about to send him packing. He still came by the bar every night, sometimes to close the place down and sometimes just to stick his head in the back door. Both kids looked forward to him being here on Sunday and I waited impatiently for Monday nights when I would have him to myself for a few hours.

That was a problem with owning and running a bar and dating a Turk. Neither Rude nor I had a lot of personal time. My first priorities were the kids and Seventh Heaven. He was at Rufus’s beck and call every minute of every day. We both understood these things and did our best to use our limited time well.

I greeted him with a kiss and let us both in the kitchen door. “It’s nice to see you off schedule,” I teased. “Playing hooky?”

“Sort of. I couldn’t concentrate on paperwork.” He shut the door behind him and threw the bolt. “My mind kept wandering.”

Something in how he said that sent a shiver of anticipation down my spine. More than once in the past couple of weeks we had found ourselves frustrated by location or interruption. Not that I necessarily objected to getting tossed against a wall, but when the wall in question gives on to the street? No thanks, not my cup of tea. It was getting old and the sound of the bolt clicking into place was music to my ears.

“Alone at last,” I breathed as he closed the distance between us with more calm than I felt. He grabbed my hips and kissed me long and hard. I wish I could say that I took him to bed and kept him there for hours. But impatience and pent up desire made for a very different reality.

 

He made quick work of relieving me of my t-shirt and his coat joined it on the floor within seconds. I managed to get all of the buttons on his shirt undone before he figured out the clasp on my bra, so he shook off his shirt while I unhooked and tossed aside my offending article.

I made the most inhuman sound when he lowered his head to my breast and scraped his goatee over my nipple before replacing facial hair with his teeth and warm, soft tongue. He took advantage of my momentary incapacity to unbutton, unzip and push my jeans down over my hips into a heap at my feet.

I groped at empty air for a few seconds before I found and began working on his belt. He was just overdressed, I decided. There were way too many pieces and layers in my way. Finally, I managed to free him from his pants. I also learned that Rude’s answer to the ages old question of boxers or briefs was a big old ‘why bother?’

While I appreciated my new found knowledge and one of the best views I have ever had, he sent my panties southward to join my jeans. Tangling one hand into my hair he pulled me close to him and wound his tongue around mine, coaxing and demanding. He released my head and grabbed my backside, lifting me up and encouraging me to wrap my legs around him.

I gladly followed his lead and moaned into his mouth and wriggled in ecstasy at the feeling of him pressed hard against me. He sat me on the kitchen table and I spared a very brief thought in hoping that it would hold up. He pulled away from me and searched through the pile of clothes, coming back and handing me a condom. Thank the stars Rude was thinking of these things, because right then, I just didn’t care. While I opened it and rolled it over him, he slid his fingers into me and made me short of breath with his ‘come here’ motions.

He removed his fingers, making me gasp a protest, but I forgave him when he pulled me to the very edge of the table and directed his cock into their place. Holding on to his upper arms, I matched the rocking of my hips to the thrusting of his. His teeth tugged at the skin of my neck and shoulder and I dug my short nails into his arms as our pace increased and sweat beaded on our skin. One of his hands twisted and pinched my nipple making me pant and beg for more, deeper, harder.

With every thrust, he sank deeper at my demands until I was shaking with a heavy mixture of need and want. Every muscle in my body tightened and I writhed against him, still not satisfied and desperate for release. He delivered it when he moved his hand from my breast and used his thumb to flick rough circles around my clit.

My body exploded then. I couldn’t breathe properly, my vision went blurry, and my ears rang with the sound of my own shouts of pleasure. Taut muscle quaked and I arched violently towards Rude who buried himself inside me and shook with his own climax.

When all was done (there was nothing either of us could have been saying, really) we clung to one another, aftershocks occasionally drawing exhausted sounds from our throats, as we caught our breath. We stayed like this for several minutes, his head on my shoulder and my arms around his neck. But eventually, he pulled away and looked down at me.

He kissed me again, softly, carefully, letting his lips linger on mine. “I think we’ve made a mess of the kitchen.”

I giggled then and looked around. “Yeah, looks like it. But at least the table is still standing.”

He raised one eyebrow and smiled, “You didn’t tell me it wasn’t a great place to pick. I’ll have to remember that.” His words held promise and I fought back the desire to shout hallelujahs.

Instead I scooted off the table, pushing him back a little as I did. I started going through the scattered clothes on the floor, tossing his to him and putting mine over my arm. “I think I need a shower. Want to join me?” I offered with a wink.

“How could I resist?” came his enthusiastic reply.

After twenty minutes, the water went cold on us and the festivities were moved to my bed.

That afternoon after Rude had gone, I may not have been the cleanest person in Edge, but I was certainly one of the most relaxed. And I was not able to look at the kitchen table without smiling for several months.


	22. Tifa - 22

I had seen off Cloud and Denzel that morning. Cloud initially had not been able to promise anything about where they would go, but Denzel was getting a much-asked for week of traveling with Cloud. After getting a phone call the night before, they were headed to Wutai for a pickup and going and coming would take the full week and Denzel would get to see a LOT of the planet. I didn't know who was more excited, Cloud or Denzel. I would miss them, but not enough to try to tag along. I'd overheard their plans for candy, soda, and cheap tacos and I was VERY glad I was going to on a different continent.

Marlene had gone a few hours later. She'd be back in two weeks and again, it was hard to tell who was more excited. Everyone knows that Barret is just a big cuddly bear when she is around. Also a total pushover and she'd had him promising daily treats of trips, cookies, and more bedtime stories than she could ever stay awake for. I would miss her too, but those two so loved their time together, I could not and would not begrudge her a second of it.

And that left me. Alone. On a Monday afternoon with a stack of bookkeeping and a ham sandwich. Ah well, life isn't always sex on the kitchen table in the middle of the day. Later, though might be a different story. After all, it was a Monday.

Books always took forever. I'm not the best at math so I always take extra time over them, most of it spent second guessing and rechecking for errors. Every time I found a mistake, I felt like I had to go back over the whole thing. The sandwich didn't last long and I had made a serious dent in a bowl of ice cream before I manged to be finished enough to satisfy myself.

Feeling both relieved and accomplished, I decided that I would treat myself to a long bubble bath. The only problem with that was the the only bubbles were Marlene's that smelled something like radioactive bubblegum. But I wanted bubbles and to enjoy not having to share the hot water, so toxic pink bubble bath it was.

I soaked until the water was almost cold and my fingers looked like raisins. I got dressed, tamed the damp ends of my hair and checked the clock. I didn't expect Rude until about six and it was five thirty. I stoked up the fire in the wood stove that heated the whole building and decided to make dinner. Snow piled up in heaps outside and the temperature was dropping with the sun. There was no reason to not stay in tonight. Who wants to freeze to death when there's a warm fire, good food, and better company?

Rude was punctual to the minute, as usual. He came in the back door, stomping the snow off his boots and brushing a dusting of it off his wool overcoat.

“Snowing again?” I sighed as he kissed me hello. “I shouldn't complain, I'm sure. At least this year it's white!”

Rude chuckled and sat down to unlace and remove his boots. He was pretty awesome for that. I didn't like mopping up puddles, but I'd never asked him to ditch the snowy shoes. He just did it. “No joke. Two winters ago, remember the green?”

“How could I forget? I wouldn't let Marlene out for a month!” I laughed now, but it had been horrible and scary at the time, with the snow tinged a weird green. As it fell it made the sky look green too.

“Last year wasn't so bad. Just dirty. But this is nice. Reminds me of being a kid.” he dropped his boots by the back door with a thunk and hung his coats on the rack by the door. “What smells so good?”

“Chili! I waited for you before I spice it up too much.” I directed him to a line of bottles and spices on the counter. “They are arranged by pain factor. This one is not bad; Denzel puts that on his potatoes. This one,” I indicated the one farthest from me, “Nanaki sent. Smell it through the tin ONLY. I couldn't smell anything for a week when I opened it the first time. It hurt and I cried.”

Rude picked up the square tin of powdered spice from who-knows-where and sniffed gingerly. “Well, now I'm curious. It's kinda nice through this. Maybe just a pinch?”

I looked at him sideways and stepped back from the stove. “Be my guest! I value my eyebrows!”

Holding the tiny tin at arms length, he popped the top and took the smallest pinch of the dried herbs and spices between his fingers. The smell hit him first, but he held his breath and just sifted the pinch into the pot as quickly as he could before putting the top back on. I coughed and wheezed a little, but at least I still had my retinas.

Rude began to cough and tear up while he stirred the potent mixture in. “I think I might have made a bad decision.” His face was red, his nose beginning to run. “What is in that?”

I took over the stirring and tried not to giggle. “I warned you! And I don't have a clue. I'm thinking that I might use it to repel slugs or something in the spring.”

Rude rubbed his eyes and excused himself to go find some tissues. I stirred the pot of now spiced chili and hoped that it would be edible. The scent wasn't so bad now and it was starting to mellow out a lot the warmer it got.

Rude came back not too long after, wiping his eyes one last time. “If I've ruined it, I'll get takeout. Man, that's powerful.” He was still a little pink around the eyes.

“Well, let's taste it first. I've been too chicken,” I sad as I handed him a spoon. “On three?”

He nodded, I counted, and we dove in. Neither of us died, but it was a bit much for me. Rude was unphased, but got a chuckle out of me, gaping like a landed fish and flailing for water.

“Take-out then?” He asked as I took a long drink.

I shook my head. “Nope, all that needs is pasta and cheese and I think I'll survive it.” Rude chuckled at this and I got out another pot.

It was nice to cook with him and do everyday domestic stuff. We ate in front of the tv, a base violation of the house rules, and delivered scathing commentary on a really awful superheroes-save-the-world movie we found. He volunteered to do the dishes when the movie was over and I agreed readily. I had to put everything away, but that gave me something to do.

“What now?” I asked as I put away the big stock pot. “The night is still young.”

“And it is still snowing,” came his reply as he glanced out the window. “Coming down pretty hard too.”

I smiled at him. “Do you want to go play in the snow?”

“Yeah, kinda.” He looked a little sheepish, like he was a little ashamed of wanting to do something so childish.

I giggled and answered simply, “Race you for the door!”

What ensued was a mad dash the likes of which no one alive could imagine. There was pushing, shoving, name calling, boot throwing, and at least one one wet-willy. It was like grade-school gone horribly wrong, but it was fun!

So were the hours out in the falling snow. A battle for control of the back yard was started and eventually spilled into the street where several of the neighbors joined in, including old Mr. Wu who owned the liquor store. He was eventually declared the winner because we were running out of snowballs due to his ability to wield his cane like a bat. The sweetest little girl on the street kissed him on the cheek and he puffed up like a balloon over it.

Rude and I made our way back to Seventh Heaven, his arm draped loosely around my shoulders. When we got in the back door and were pulling off our wet, soggy coats and boots, I asked him if he could stay the night. It was strange to be asking that although it was really what I wanted more than anything else right then. It was just sort of an awkward question somehow.

I guess he didn't think so because he didn't even think about his answer. “I can, but I'll have to be out the door by about half past four. “

I wondered if he'd already thought this out before I'd asked. We retreated to the warmer upper level of the bar and I decided that whether he had or not didn't matter. What mattered was that he was here, he would be here all night, and the night was still young enough for us to do deliciously wonderful things to each other. And if you think we didn't, you are a huge fool.

Four came far too early, but it came without fail. I half-woke when he started to untangle himself from the blankets and me. I protested by making a negative noise and tying to pull him back under the coves with me, but he laughed and resisted. I did get to watch him get dressed through half-closed eyes. That was better than most sunrises I've been awake for.

He knelt down next to the bed and kissed me goodbye. “How long do you have the place to yourself?”

I yawned and replied, “A week. Probably not more than that.”

He pressed his lips together and nodded before kissing me again. “See you tonight then.” He tugged a stray lock of my hair and left.

I was able to wait until I heard the kitchen door close before I buried my face in my pillow and had the biggest, happiest, loudest fit of joy of my life.


	23. Tifa - 23

There are nights when the stars just align right. In one night and without any planning Barret, Cid, Nanaki, Reeve, Yuffie, Vincent, and Cloud were all under Seventh Heaven’s roof again. It wasn’t a holiday or any particular occasion, just a fluke of overlapping schedules. Had things not unfolded the way they did, I don’t know that he night would have been as relaxed and peaceful as it was.

Rude and Cloud arrived by different doors at almost the same time. I was in the bar already serving the first of the nights customers, so Rude got a nod hello while Cloud asked if I needed anything from the kitchen before coming on through. He and Rude nodded to each other and Rude took possession of a table since a new customer was in ‘his’ barstool.

Cloud headed upstairs to wash the dust off and say hello to the kids. The new server that I’d hired, Cora, went to get Rude’s order, and the bell at the door rang again as Vincent came in. He scanned the room and raised an eyebrow at me in a silent question. I shrugged because Yuffie wasn’t here. He made a complicate hand gesture and I nodded understanding. I turned and shook my head at the marvel that is Vincent’s ability to communicate without a single word while I got Rude’s Bourbon and then popped the top off a bottle of hard cider for Vincent.

Cora had gotten waylaid by another patron so Vincent came and picked up both drinks with a nod. He delivered Rude’s and joined him at the table. The two fell in to conversion and before long, I noticed that in the last wave of customers, Nanaki had come in. I broke away from pouring drinks then to go greet him. Hugs and headbutts given, Nanaki declined my offers of food and drink and joined Rude, Vincent, and now Cloud while I returned to the bar to fill more orders.

The next to arrive were Reeve and Cid. Reeve greeted our friends with his warm smiles and hellos and Cid clapped Vincent on the back, making some snide remark about keeping questionable company. I tensed a bit but relaxed again when Cid just laughed and extended his hand to Rude.

It was maybe a half hour later when the noisy whirlwind that was Yuffie and Barret came in the door. She must have met him along the way and was doing her level best to make him insane. They paused, ranting at each other like two headstrong children – her clearly enjoying it and him about to blow steam out his ears in aggravation. I laughed out loud, some things will just never change no matter how much time passes. They attracted a lot of attention from the other customers and my friends just watched in amusement until Barret’s face turned the color of a tomato. It was a the point that Cloud and Vincent moved at the same time – Vincent wrapping his hand around Yuffie’s mouth and pulling her gently backwards towards the table to distract her with food and Cloud to take a stance in front of Barret and remind him where he was and that it’s just Yuffie being a brat on purpose.

It use to take a lot longer to get Barret cooled down, but he’d changed a lot. Within seconds he was shaking his head and chuckling. His yells had alerted Marlene that he was there, and she came sailing into the room to fling herself at him. Denzel followed Marlene just as he always does and I decided not to worry about homework or bedtimes.

Business was brisk but everything was fairly calm overall. I was busy, but I managed to break away a good bit to join in the laughter and plotting that was going on around the table. Every time I would stop to stand there to chat, Rude would run his hand over the back of my calf – just out of direct sight of any of my friends. I’m sure that word had spread, but I wasn’t going to go around with a sticker on my forehead that said, ‘dating Rude now!’ or anything. That’s just not my style.

While Cid had us all rolling on with laughter and groaning with disgust at Shera’s latest cravings, the bell over the door rang again and I called a greeting before properly looking at who it was.

And who it was was a very much off-duty Tseng and Elena. Off-duty because Elena was wearing light green yoga pants and an oversized tee and Tseng was in his shirtsleeves. Elena’s eyes met mine and she smiled. But as soon as she spotted Cid, her expression changed to absolute glee. Leaving Tseng standing in the middle of the floor alone, she beelined for the pilot and parked herself backwards in a chair.

If I thought Tseng knew how to laugh, I would have believed that is what he was doing when he came over and shook Reeve’s hand. Elena had effectively managed to silence the whole table and Cid was looking like he’d been hit with a very dead chicken. Thankfully at least SHE knew what she was doing and, ignoring everyone’s silence, began to quiz Cid closely on the oil-powered engine that had been his baby now for years. The conversation got technical and turned to the sustainability of such a device and that caused Barret to get involved. Then Cloud and Denzel chimed in when geography came in to question. On the other side of the table, Reeve and Tseng had drawn Yuffie and Nanaki into a conversation about diplomacy and bureaucratic relations that could make anyone’s head spin.

Rude shrugged when I looked down at him in wonder. Vincent rolled his eyes at the whole weird situation and I asked if anyone needed refills. Everyone did, so I co-opted Vincent and Rude to help fill and deliver orders.

I never would have thought, even as little as a week before, that a scene like this would ever play out. I wondered at the absence of Reno, but Rude just shook his head, “He wouldn’t leave Rufus completely alone. And Reno’s got his reasons to avoid Seventh Heaven.”

I nearly asked him what those could be, but a family arrived just then and I had to hustle to do my job. I made a mental note to ask him more later and decided to just enjoy the night and the company.


	24. Yuffie - 24

How had I let him talk me in to this? A train? What had I been thinking when I agreed to it?

Oh, right. I'd been thinking about going snowboarding for the frst time in years. And snowboarding was worth the threat of tossing my cookies all over a swanky train car.

I'd begged and pleaded since the first snowfall in Edge, trying to get him to go to Icecicle Village for a short snowboarding adventure. Vincent had refused so stoically that I was beginning to give up trying. Then I came home one Friday afternoon in the middle of December to find a pair of suitcases packed and waiting in the hallway.

He had enjoyed bundling me out of the house as soon as I”d walked in, urging me to hurry on or we would miss our train. I'd eventually stood stock still in the middle of the street until he told mewhere we were going and what the rush was about.

That is when he told me that he'd caved to my whims and booked a weeks worth of travel and winter festivities nearly as soon as I'd mentioned it. I decided that he was a keeper, told him as much and raced him to the station.

The trains were a pretty new thing. The station in Edge was built just like everything else, from the pieces of ruined Midgar. And it looked really neat, too! But the trains were soemthing that Reeve was crazy proud of and I couldn't help but be proud of him too. He had such a good background in transporttion planning that he'd done a beautiful job planning and overseeing every aspect of the lines that were quickly beginning to criss-cross the planet. Between the jobs the project created and the way it sped up travel time, so far there had been no major complaints and a lot of praise.

I was now among the masses that were going to praise the system, but only after I was off of the train. I had come to grips (about 100 miles earlier) that there was just no way that I could travel without feeling queasy. The ginger candies that the porter offered helped a lot in terms of keeping actual horking at nil, but I was still a slave the nausea. Vicnent took pity on me and didn't mention food and only drank water within my range of smell.

“You really are a keeper, Vince,” I told him, managing to smile at him from my nest of pillows and blankets. The lights in the corridor had already been dimmed for the night and the porter had come around to see if we needed anything and give us a lesson in the call button system.

Vincent chuckled from the tiny bathroom where he was brushing his teeth. I heard the water start and shut off again before he replied, “That is the second time you have said that today.”

I just made an affirmative noise and unwrapped another of the ginger candies. I din't want to risk waking up in the middle of the night barfing my lungs up if i could help it.

Vincent came out of the bathroom and dropped his empty shoulder holster on the floor before kicking it under the berth. He placed the gun on the little shelf above my head and said, “Then I'll take it as a compliment.”

“You should,” was my candy-slurred reply. I snuggled deeper into my nest but was rattled from it before I could eve htink about getting comfortbale. “What ARE you doing?”

What he was doing involved him planting one foot behind me on in the berth and trying to duck his head far enough to not crack it on the berth above. He failed miserably in the latter. “Ow. I'm trying to get to bed out of your firing range.” Somehow he managed to compact himself small enough to not get a concussion and lift his other leg over before stretching out behind me.

“Good greif. You could have just asked me to move,” I complained while he stole some of my covers. These things were really not designed for two people, but I wasn't going to be the one to mention it.

“But then I wouldn't have a knot on my head for you to kiss better,” came his sarcastic reply. He kissed my neck, draped one arm around my waist, and worked the other under the pillow I had my head on.

“I ask again, what ARE you doing?” Not complaining or anything but this time, what he was doing was breaking Rule Number One with that lingering – STILL LINGERING kiss on my neck.

He moved his head a little and had to remove a mouth full of my hair before he was able to answer. “TRYING to start a conversation. You know, talking and I don't get on so well soemtimes.”

I snorted, “I hadn't noticed.” Rolling the candy around in my mouth I slurred, “Just spit it out. It takes less time than a game of charades.”

He rested his forehead at the base of my neck and blew out a long sigh. I could feel him starting to tense up and was about to make some smartass remark when he lifted his head and whispered into my ear, “I'm so sick of the rules.”

I giggled. “Sorry. Wait.” I clapped my hand over my mouth when the giggles turned into outright laughter. It was short lived due to the shaking making me green around the gills again. I graoned in agony and giggled again at the same time.

I cuold almost FEEL him rolling his eyes at me. “Are you done yet?” He asked after a few minutes.

I managed to sober up enough to say, “Yeah, I'm good. Rules suck and I am SO over them I could scream.”

“If you weren't busy trying to keep down your lunch?” Oh lord, now HE was struggling to not laugh. At least the humor of the situation wasn't lost on him. If he made that sound like a chocobo with a head cold...

He did. And I fell to pieces laughing. Motion sickness was mmentarily forgotten in the face of the most idiotic of sound coming out of his mouth because he was trying so hard not to laugh that he actually WARKED. I was kept from hyperventilating only because I knew that would make me bow in supplication to the trash can by the berth.

Of course, he came to his senses before I did. He always did. “Deep breath, Yuffie. There are a few pretty serious things to discuss now.”

I wiped my eyes and wheezed a little. “Yeah,” I took a deep breath and let it out slowly in an effort to not start giggling again. “You got marinaded in mako, so there will be no undead-warewolf-ninja babies and you can't even get a head cold still. As for me, my last physical came back clean – save for low iron and that is notihng new to anyone.”

“Marinade? What a charming way to put it,” his voce was flat and sarcastic. “Anyway, I'm not so sure that is still tue.”

I shrugged, “Still, no biggie. I've got it covered, anyway.” He made a curious noise and I explained, “I've been all over this world, mostly alone, since I was 14. Not everyone in the world is nice and I would be a real idiot to act like they all are.”

“Yeah but,” he raised up on his arm and looke down at me. “How? If it wasn't for me reminding you, you'd forget your iron half the time.”

Sometimes I forget hat he's missed 30 years of innovation. But in my defense, he has made a HUGE effort to catch up, so it's easy enough to forget. “I'm not that bad! Anyway, there's way more options than pills now. My favorite is these little match sized doohickies that sit just under my skin and do the trick for five years. I just got my second one about six or eight months ago.”

“That sounds like something out of a horror movie,” was his assessment of modern birth control.

I snorted, “Well, it's not the most fu I ocudl have in a half hour and it itches like hell for a few weeks, but at the very least I'm not weeping, screaming, and eating everything chocolate in a ten mile radius for a week out of every month.”

He flopped back into his spot and made that 'hn' sound before saying reverently, “And for that we are all truly grateful. On mor than one level.”

“Perv!” I accused and tie to reclaim sorm of my blanket stash. I was running out of candy and would need to get to sleep soon to avoid another 20 minutes of wakefulness and more mouth burning. Ginger works but it hurts, too. “Anything else?”

“Not that I can think of,” He chuckled and gave me a squeeze. “I think your hair is trying to kill me.” He spit out another few strands.

“Then quit trying to eat it,” I scolded him and yawned. I wiggled down into the covers more so that his life wouldn't be in danger from my Medusa-spawned tresses. “Better?”

“Much.” He kissed the top of my head and laced his fingers through mine under the covers.

I yawned again and giggled. “We have to be the king and queen of awkward conversations.” I felt the laughter beginning to bubble up again and I tried to control it.

“But it works. I get all red and uncomfortable, you do all the talking and everything gets sorted out eventually.” He shifted his shoulders in what I guessed was a shrug. “Now go to sleep.”

I eventually giggled myself to sleep and did not need to make use of the handy trash can at all. Mostly because I just didn't wake up that I remember. The next morning, I woke up to Vincent climbing over me and whacking his head again.

“Morning sunshine,” I said with a stretch in response to his grumbling. Then I realized that he train wasn't moving. I almost whooped for joy but my very empty stomach got hte jump on me with a loud gurgly rumble.

A knock sounded at the door and the porter's voice said, “One hour to disembark, please! One hour.”

I showered and dressed quickly and Vincent and I were off the train in about half an hour. And oh my god was it ever cold! If I hadn't been so hungry I would have headed directly to the slopes, but I hadn't eaten proper food in more than twelve hours.

“Ugh,” I complained as my stomach rumbled again. “I think I'm going to waste away if I don't get soemthing to eat soon.”

Vincent offered me his arm and I took it. Picking up his suitcase with his opposite hand, he said, “I'm sure that we can get breakfast at the Inn.”

I grabbed my bag and we headed off through the snow, our breath making little puffy clouds in the chill air. The walk didn't take long and his prediction proved right. In an incredibly short time, we were relieved of bags, coats, scarves, and gloves and shown to a tbale a very comfortable distance from a cheery fire.

Vicnent arranged himself in the chair across from me and watched me while I studied the menu. I had gotten used to that, actually. When I'd first realized that he did it, it was kind of weird to just be STARED at. I'd gotten desentizied to it over the past few months, though. I just guaged his expression as best I could and kept on doing whatever I was doing. Right now, he had a smile tugging just barely at the corners of his mouth. That meant that he would probably say something if I left him to get to it.

I was actually getting better at reading him. I was no expert, but I knew that if he was working on soemthing and had that line between his eyebrows, I needed to leave him alone. But if he had both the line and one side of his mouth was pulled back towards his ear, he NEEDED disturbing. I”d also learned that a bored Vincent is a sleepy Vincent, he had two forms of exasperation (one that could stand teasing the other that needed a lot of distance,) and that if he was staring off into space with his eyes glazed over he really, really, REALLY needed to be hugged. There was still plenty that I just couldn't even fathom, but I was pretty proud of what I'd picked up.

The waiter came and we ordered. Hot drinks came and I sniffed my orange and clove tea appriciatevly. Vincent still wasn't being communicative but I could wait him out if I needed to. Food came and I ate everything that was put in front of me and some of what was put in front of Vincent. He complained about my stealing his bacon, asking me what kind of vegitarian I thought I was.

“No kind at all! Most meat is just a weird texture. But I have never met a piece of bacon I ddni't like,” I explained as I tried to snatch another piece of his. He threaatened me with his fork and I gave up.

After breakfast, we asked about the stae of the slopes and found conditions favorable to hurtling down a mountainside at breakneck speeds, so with no ceremony at all we headed out to do that very thing.

Now here's the thing. I was still missing some strength in my left leg. Not so much that I limped or walked in circles or anything, but I was missing a chunk of muscle about the size of half my own fist. It made for a wicked looking scar but it also meant that that leg was just going to be a little weaker. Which sort of sucked because that was my braking leg for hoverboards and snowboards.

Once we were all suited up and ready to go, Vincent gave me a ahrd look and a stern warning. “Don't get insane, okay? If you ache, we stop, end of conversation.”

I gave him a mock salute and headed off about four secodns before he did. And for two runs, I was great! I fell a couple of times on my frist run and swtiched to leading with my left on the second. That worked better, but it was awkards – like trying to write with your right hand when you are a lefty. Because of that, my reaction time wasn't what it could have been. So I zigged when I should have zagged and had a spectacular wipe out into a snow bank. I wasn't hurt, but between that and the extertion of having to climb back to the top of the run, I was done for the morning.

We did some window shopping as we walked slowly back through town. I still neede to find a Christmas present for Tifa. She was always so hard to buy for. I mentioed this to Vincent and he agreed.

“It's because if there's soemthing she wants, she never mentions it. And she is more focused on making sure that everyone else has what they need and want.” He was right, but he had given me an idea.

“Hey, what if we gave her a week off?” The words hadn't left my mouth before I was convinced this was pure genius. “Yeah! That's it!” I tugged on Vincent's arm and he stopped walking to look sown at me. “We could run the bar for her and send her on vacation!”

He thought about this for a few minutes, his eyebrow creeping up his forehead bit by bit as he warmed to the idea. Finally he nodded approval and admitted, “Sometimes I wonder if you are a genius.”

I puffed up with pride and he laughed, “Then I remember that you trip over thin air on a regular basis.”

I called him a not-so-nice name and shoved him. He just laughed again and trie to walk away. He didn't get far before I caught up with him. And let me tell you that this clumsy genius still managed to get a snowball down the back of his coat without much effort at all. His gasp of shock and dismay was well worth being chased through town and having the inn's receptionist give me a dirty look for tracking puddles across the room to the stairs.


	25. Vincent - 25

I didn't actually chase Yuffie any farther than the Inn, but she kept going thinking that I did. When I got back, I asked for our room key and bags and went to change out of my very wet shirt. That job done, I returned to the lobby and settled in to an over-sized arm chair to wait for her.

 

She came in the front doors, having circled around after skidding out the back door on wet boots. Her cheeks were pink from the cold and her nose was a little blue. She made straight for me, shivering and smiling. “Scoot! I'm freezing and you are warm.” She squished herself into the chair with me and propped her feet up on the table in front of us.

 

I was not completely comfortable with this arrangement and she had to have known that. Public or even semi-public displays of affection are just not something I was okay with. But this one time, I did my level best to overlook my own discomfort in light of the fact that she really was cold. I could feel the chill of her neck through my shirt when I wrapped my arm around her.

 

“Did you land in another snowbank?” She made a noncommittal noise and shrugged while tucking both of her hands between us. I shook my head, “Just so long as you didn't fall off the roof into it.”

 

She got very still and asked, “What's the punishment for falling off the roof?”

 

“Yuffie,” I started in a tone of exasperation fully prepared to enumerate the hazards of climbing on snowy roofs, but I thought better of it. She'd turned her face up to look at me and the pink of her cheeks against he paleness from the cold seemed like punishment enough. So instead of scolding her, I just pulled her closer to me and was thankful that the lobby was empty.

 

She snuggled against me and I offered, “Would you like a cup of tea? A blanket? To be the next log on the fire?”

 

“Maybe in a few minutes. I'm starting to get feeling back in my fingers,” she said as she wiggled the digits in question.

 

I twitched at the movement and she snickered. I was pretty sure that I would someday regret her knowing that my ribs were ticklish and I sincerely hope that day was not today. There were other things I wanted to do with this day.

 

Another few minutes and she pulled her hands out from between us and flexed her fingers. “That's better.” Then she sat up straighter and looked around the room like a curious prairie dog.

 

I looked around wondering if she'd seen or heard something I'd missed, but there was no one there. Even the front desk clerk had put out a sign that he would return in ten minutes. When I turned back to ask her what was wrong, she was waiting for me with her face just a breath away from mine. Slowly, just the press of her lips on mine, her eyes fluttering closed, her still-cool fingers splayed over my jaw she kissed me.

 

I didn't even manage to get a hand to her cheek before a door slammed somewhere nearby and she pulled back, giving me a wink and leaving me momentarily off balance. She was on her feet seconds before the clerk came back to his post, complaining about being cold, damp, and hungry.

 

I pulled the key out of my pocket and handed it to her, advising a change of clothes and a blanket might be wise. I offered to hunt down a snack for her as well and her eyes lit up when she asked for hot chocolate with big marshmallows. I promised that I'd do my best and she headed off in the direction of the stairs.

 

I sat there for a few minutes after she walked away. Sometimes, I really wished that I had the ability to even think the right words to explain how her blend of vitality and understanding had had me falling in love with her by inches. It was laughable that a woman known for impulsive antics and ill-advised tricks had NOT swept me off my feet in a rush of emotion but had secured my love for her in quiet moments and careful words.

 

I smiled to myself before going in search of hot chocolate with big marshmallows. That task proved to be a LOT easier than I had expected. The confectionery next door to the inn actually had a hot chocolate bar with some of the strangest things to add to the sweet drink. I got Yuffie her requested big marshmallows, one each of the three flavors they offered. I couldn’t resist getting some for myself, too.

 

Yuffie was snuggled under a blanket on the bed when I got back. She poked her hands out to take her cup when I offered it to her and made approving sounds over the marshmallow selections. “You did good, babe! What'd you get?”

 

“Dark chocolate and peppermint.” I flopped down next to her and leaned back against the headboard. “Answer me this. Is there anything that humanity will NOT make a buffet out of?”

 

She'd devoured all three of her marshmallows already and had let the blanket drop into her lap. “I'm pretty sure that everything worth eating lends itself to a buffet. I personally would like to see a pancake bar.”

 

“This does not surprise me for some reason,” I chuckled. “What about tacos? Guacamole optional, right?”

 

She rolled her eyes and snorted, “You and your anti-avocado sentiments. You should be arrested for such blasphemy!”

 

I shrugged and suggested, “Here's one just for you then. A potato bar.”

 

Her reaction was everything I had expected it to be. She hummed with pleasure and closed her eyes. “Can you just imagine? Baked potatoes, cheese, butter, a little onion. OH! Or mashed with more butter and Tifa's chili on top.” She sighed dramatically and I laughed.

 

“You are no friend to potatoes! Do you devour everything you love with such relish?” I teased and fished the remains of the peppermint stick out of the bottom of my cup.

 

“If you are asking if you will wake up one morning missing your leg because I got hungry in the night, the answer is no. I imagine that you are kind of tough and gamey and it would take a really long time to cook a whole leg.” She did her best to deliver that with a straight face but ended up having to hide a smile in her cup.

 

I had no reason to try to hide my laughter. “Should I be nervous that you've thought this out to the point of calculating cooking time?”

 

She made a negative sound into her cup as she drained it. Wiping her lip, she chirped, “Nah. Just thinking about what to do the next time the world is slated to end. I'm sure we'll have to resort to cannibalism sooner or later.”

 

“And people call ME weird,” I replied. I took our empty cups to the trash can while she giggled and tossed the blanket aside. “Finally thawed out? You didn't hurt yourself falling off the roof, did you?”

 

“I'm fine. I landed on my back in a nice, fluffy pile of snow so no harm done. Oh,” she sat up straight and swung her legs off the edge of the bed. “You packed for me, right?”

 

“Yes, what did I forget?” I was pretty sure I'd gotten everything that she used on a regular basis, but her smile told me I must have left something out.

 

She shook her head, “Nothing. But you certainly don't get the award for the most observant person ever.” She must have enjoyed my confusion because she laughed. Cocking her head to the side and raising a finger like a teacher she offered, “Winter means layers and layers of nice, thick clothes. Layers of nice, thick clothes means that I haven’t worn a bra in about three weeks. And you packed all four of mine.”

 

I'm sure that the heat on my ears was not from the fire in the grate. I recrossed the room and stopped in front of her with my arms crossed before explaining, “Well, I don't touch your laundry anymore after that unfortunate incident with the lint trap so my ignorance of your undergarments is understandable.”

 

She reached for my gauntleted arm and flipped it, tripping the latch that made the forearm piece separate. She set it on the beside table and admonished, “Understandable, yes. But completely unforgivable.”

 

She tugged at the clawed fingers of my glove and I reached up to trace the curve of her earlobe with the forefinger of my free hand. I felt the corners of my mouth pull up in a smile when she bit her lip and shivered. “Better remedy that then.”


	26. Yuffie - 26

I knew after our little chat on the train that the time before I would be in Vincent's pants would be measured in hours instead of days. And I was really proud of myself for being as patient as I had been. A solid thirteen and a half hours was very respectable.

 

But when he traced my earlobe with the tip of his finger, I wondered what I'd gotten myself in to. The wondering only lasted long enough for me to finish getting his armored glove off and toss it aside.

 

His lips replaced his fingers on the curve of my ear and I shivered again. “You know I don't know what I'm supposed to do, right?”

 

He hummed an affirmative noise before he left my ear to press his mouth on to mine. “So I've been told,” he whispered between kisses. “If you would rather not...,” he trailed off while giving me a level look.

 

I sighed and shook my head. I peeled his button-up down his arms and he shrugged out of his shoulder holster, both falling to the floor. “I'd rather you not try to second guess for me.” I pulled his t-shirt off with his help and continued, “Especially when I'm not second guessing anything. Just reminding.”

 

This time, when his fingertips brushed my earlobe and his lips met mine, he tasted different. The usual kind of earthy-saltiness I was used to was there but it was mixed with something more elusive and potent. Something new.

 

But that wasn't the only change. I don't understand it, he didn't smell any different, really. His scent was still Vincent's metal, soap, and star anise smell, only more heady and it hit me right where scent and taste merge together and make a smell wash over your tongue. I inhaled deeply once I realized it. Cliche or not, I could have gotten happily drunk on his scent alone right then. I tried to, clinging to him with my fingers pressing in to his shoulder and back while he trailed feather-light kisses along my jaw and down my neck to my collarbone so very slowly.

 

His clawed hand tugged gently on my hair and I tilted my head back in response. He kept planting those tempting, airy kisses across my throat and up the opposite side of my neck until he captured my earlobe between his lips. At the same time his hand trailed down my side and slid under the hem of my shirt. He slipped it around my back, pressing his palm flat against the small of my back and tugging me closer to him. My next breath was a little short and fluttery. This wasn't the first time I'd ever had my neck kissed, even Vincent had done this before. But not with this blatant seductiveness.

 

It was almost a relief when his mouth found mine again. That, I knew what to do with. That, I wasn't fumbling around in the unknown about. Because let's face it. I'd told him the truth – I had no clue what I was supposed to be doing. While I enjoyed the new familiar taste of his tongue against mine, I sent up a desperate plea to Leviathan to help me just not make a complete fool of myself this ONE time. I didn't quite manage to offer anything in terms of a barter. While I was casting around for something worthwhile, Vincent's hands were lifting my shirt up over my ribs and that shorted out reasonable thought for a few seconds.

 

Lifting became tugging and he broke off the kiss long enough to get my shirt over my breasts and off my temporarily raised arms. He hadn't even let it start to slip from his fingers before he had one arm around my back, pressing my now bare chest to his. I tangled my hands in his hair as his lips grazed mine and trailed over my cheek. His fingertips traced down the line of my spine making me arch into him and wiggle.

 

gThat tickles,” I breathed into his ear as he trailed his fingers back up, barely touching my skin.

 

Vincent hummed a laugh and moved his hands to my sides to caress my ribs. He trailed the tip of his nose and his lips down my neck again and tucked one last airy kiss into the hollow near my shoulder. He leaned back, putting enough space between us to move his hands to the button of my pants and I was proud of myself for managing to not hyperventilate. I was also proud of my shaking hands for managing to make reasonably quick work of his belt.

 

The five buttons of his jeans, though defeated me. Hooking two fingers into his belt loops, I somehow managed to ignore his hands dipping past the waistband of my pants and cradling my hips long enough to say, “Now how is THIS fair at all?”

 

He glanced down and chuckled, “It isn't. But I've got time.”

 

I told him he was an ass and he agreed. So with his hands inching under the elastic band of my panties in a very distracting way, I set about popping each of those buttons loose. I took my time and was rewarded with less trembling in my hands and a satisfying set of throaty noises from Vincent. No doubt the latter had more to do with my knuckles rubbing an erratic rhythm against the contents of his jeans than my prowess with the buttons. His obviously growing enjoyment of it and his assurance of having time just begged for me to take my sweet time.

 

So focused was I on eliciting more of those sounds from him that I squeaked with surprise when he lifted and pushed me into a backwards fall on the bed. That squeak ended in a gasp when he locked his mouth over my nipple and twirled his tongue. My breath got hung in my throat for a second but escaped as a ragged laugh when he lifted his eyes to lock on mine and blew over my damp skin. He repeated the twirling and blowing on my other nipple and I bit my lip and squirmed, one hand in his hair, the other leaving the print of my short nails on his upper arm.

 

I wondered vaguely if I was ever going to breathe normally again and decided that if I ever did it would be too soon. Because if he stopped trailing those cool kisses down my stomach, I might be forced to cry or murder him. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of my pants as he flicked his tongue into my belly button, causing me to arch towards him. He took the opportunity to tug my jeans and panties over my hips and down my legs, nibbling at my hipbone and tracing the curve of my knee with his tongue.

 

I heard denim hit carpet and felt his hands sliding back up my body, from ankles to knees, around my waist, flat across my stomach, tickling the stairs of my ribs, cupping my breasts, then my cheeks Galian's claw warmer and more rough to the touch than his hand. His mouth was hot now and more demanding. What breath I had left he stole with a less-than-completely-gentle claw tangling in my hair and the weight of his hand traveling southward again.

 

His was not the first hand to explore the lands south of my border – that was an old merit badge earned by me. But not having control of the fingers that swirled, teased, and slid into me was new. New and exhilarating and absolute, never-ending torture.

 

“Wait.” What he'd been doing was lovely. Pelvic-roll nice. But this particular job NEEDED finishing quickly and what he was doing wasn't going to quite manage it. At my word, he froze. His hand stilled, his teeth left off biting my left nipple, and his clawed hand left the side of my face cold when he moved it.

 

“I said wait, not stop.” I so did not care that those words came out in a growl. I would have time to be a bit horrified at myself later, but right then I had some minor adjustments to make. Reaching between his body and mine, I repositioned his hand and fingers while advising him on pressure points and motion. He then displayed amazing manual dexterity and it was an embarrassingly short time before I was arched into him, panting his name, leaving pink indentions from my fingertips on his hip and tiny scratches on his shoulder. Every muscle in my body tightened and I swear I stopped breathing for at least a solid minute until my shaking subsided enough for me to gasp in a couple of lung-fulls of sweet oxygen.

 

“Yuffie,” whatever he was going to say I silenced with my fingers over his mouth and shushing him. I just could not hear whatever it was right then. The irony of me telling him not to talk wasn't lost on me, but it was buried very deeply under sensory overload that had every nerve in my body pointing at him like they were all cued to some drunken compass that was convinced that Vincent Valentine's right hand was magnetic north.

 

I frowned when he took his hand away, leaving me feeling . His clawed thumb traced down the side of my mouth and ran across my bottom lip as he kissed my fingertips. I had finally caught my breath and moved my hand around behind his neck, pulling him down into the laziest kiss I'd ever been a part of. He stroked his hand up my side and along my arm then back that same path before sliding it over my hip and down the back of my thigh to tug on the back of my knee.

 

He shifted his weight between my legs slightly and I realized that just because I always tended to wait at least ten minutes or so between solo orgasms, that was not a written in stone requirement. Not only was it not a requirement, in that particular circumstance it was the absolute last thing on earth that I wanted.

 

Vincent took his lips from mine and looked down at me, his eyes half-closed and his breath coming heavy and slightly ragged. His hands stilled their caresses and wanderings and he shook his head slightly. “You don't have to do this. You can still say no.”

 

The sweet idiot. I reached between us again and guided him into place. I rolled my hips slightly toward his and asked, “Why would I do that?”

 

He rested his forehead on mine and closed his eyes briefly before opening them again and pressing a somehow both gentle and hungry kiss to my lips. Then he propped himself up on his left hand, cupped my hip with his right, and started a slow dive into me.

 

I had been told most all of my life that my first time would hurt like hell. Stories of being ripped apart and bleeding like I was dying had been shoved down my throat for years by people who were supposed to know. I vowed that day that if I ever saw a single one of those people again, I would punch each and every one of them right in their sorry faces.

 

Don't get me wrong. It was uncomfortable – like when you stretch a little too far first thing in the morning. It made me gasp and tense up a little, but there was no soul-destroying agony nor did I feel any desire to scream, cry, or otherwise have any sort of fit.

 

I don't have any idea what Vincent was expecting, but when he pushed himself back and asked me if I was okay, I just didn't have any words to answer him because both my body and my head were too full of him for the words to have any room. Again with the irony that I had to wait to appreciate, but I think I did a good job communicating my level of perfectly fine-ness.

 

Given the sound he made when I wrapped my legs around his waist, I gather that Vincent didn't have any trouble understanding. And right before he crushed his mouth to mine, I came to understand why no one but the most perverse or the most confident people ever discussed sex with any degree of detail or honesty. It's because the very act itself is so personal and selfish, but with every venerability right on the surface that the only way to accurately describe all the emotion, energy, and intensity would be through the veil of mockery or being able to lay all of it out there without fear of reproach.

 

All that takes longer to say than it did to think and understand. It only took a few of his slow, long thrusts for the discomfort to fade into an ignorable background sensation. I lost all sense of time after a few more and there was nothing but friction, rhythm, humid breath and quickening heartbeats after that. Sweat beaded on our skin helping curious, demanding hands learn one another's topography while our tongues tasted salty-sweetness and our teeth drew half-choked breathless sounds from drying throats.

My second orgasm hit me like a ton of bricks. Where the one before was what I considered my standard issue, this one resonated from somewhere much deeper and radiated out, twisting muscle to the line between pleasure and pain. The last thing I remember hearing before I went deaf was my name whispered into my ear like a prayer for the damned. My neck bowed backwards, my hands twisted whatever part of Vincent they could reach. I was caught like this, not able to move and completely deaf for a couple of very long minutes. When all that tension started to drain from me, my ability to hear came back.

 

“Let go,” I'm not sure what I had a grip on that needed letting go of but whatever it was, Vincent was pretty desperate for me to do it. “Yuffie, please. Let. Go. Of. My. Arm.”

 

“Oh, shit!” I forced my right hand to release it's vice-like grip on his left forearm. The same forearm that he kept encased in leather because it was too sensitive to touch. “Leviathan! Vincent are you okay?”

 

When I'd let go, he'd rolled over on his back next to me and his face was creased with pain. I rolled over and propped myself on my elbow, apologizing profusely. The signs of pain eased in his features and he managed a dry chuckle before he finally answered, “I will be fine.” He was fighting back laughter as he turned to face me and slipped both arms around me. Pulling me to him he said, “I thought I was supposed to be asking you that question, though.”

 

I snickered and snuggled into his chest. Thinking about it for every bit of five seconds I was able to answer decidedly, “I am going to need either a shower or a mop. Otherwise, I am afraid to report that my awesomeness can no longer be measured by any known scale.”

 

He clicked his tongue, “I'm sorry to say that mops are in short supply right now and I am unwilling to let you go anywhere just yet. But by all means, let me know if your awesomeness begins to slip back in to quantifiable range. There are plenty of ways to keep it at it's present, dizzying heights. All of which I would be more than happy to indulge in.”

 

We both dissolved into endorphin giggles before tugging my discarded blanket over ourselves and basking in the afterglow.


	27. Rude - 27

We'd been spoiled. For a solid week, we had enjoyed the closest thing to a completely normal committed relationship between two people who had common interests and shared a mutual attraction and respect for one another. It had been amazing.

 

But it was also fleeting and unreal. That fact hit me in the face at the end of the week when I carried myself through the back door of the bar to find Strife washing dishes and Denzel drying and stacking them.

 

Denzel greeted me with a smile and Strife nodded, throwing a casual welcome over his shoulder. I nodded to both of them, thankful again that the chocobo-head wasn't attempting to lay some former claim to Tifa.

 

Oh, Tifa. The first time I”d laid eyes on her I'd thought her the finest specimen of female humanity available anywhere. She was a package I would have willingly opened without hesitation had the opportunity presented itself. Now, years later I was glad that the opportunity had been so long in coming. She had been nothing to me then but an incredible set of tits and a pair of legs long enough to reach from one side of the Plate to the other.

 

Unfair of me? Of course it was. I knew it then and I'd admitted that past sin to her now. She'd been disappointed, but appreciated the honesty. Later that evening as wed' had a very long, detailed, and occasionally heated conversation about what area produced superior flexible, hard wearing and customizable glove leather she forgave me in her heart, not just in her words.

 

Strife being back thrust the reality of our relationship into the forefront of my mind and that night, after Tifa closed the bar and Strife and Denzel retired to the living quarters upstairs, I had to talk to her about it.

 

Tifa leaned on the bar and smiled, “You can still stay if you want.” She glanced over her shoulder at the stairs in a gesture of offering.

 

“Maybe,” I answered. “I think we should talk first.”

 

She took a very deep breath and the smile left her face and eyes. “So, we've finally gotten here?”

 

We'd both known it would happen eventually. Maybe the week of something like normalcy sped it up, but that was nothing but conjecture.

 

She took another deep breath and said, “I hate Rufus. He is an entitled jerk who aided in the destruction of the planet, tried to have me and my friends executed, and is responsible for about half of the world's present suffering. You are one of his elite bodyguards who aided his schemes, cleaned up his messes, and would walk through fire for him.”

 

I nodded the affirmative, thinking back to the mess at Nibelheim that she may or may not have known about. Sometimes, being a Turk was the shittiest job around.

 

She looked so very sad right then. Like the weight of the world was resting on her shoulders. “But I planned and executed covert missions to undermine ShinRa's operations. Maybe thousands of people died because I set off bombs and acted without thought of how my desire for revenge would affect people who were just trying to get by.”

I nodded again before speaking. “All of us have a lot to atone for, Tifa. I do, you do and so do Strife and Rufus. And we are all doing it the best way we can figure out how.”

 

She swallowed hard. “Yes, we are.” I could see her give herself a mental shake before she tried to continue. “So where does that leave us?” She gave smiling her best effort but it was forced and half-hearted.

 

“I won't leave the Turks,” was my flat answer. Not much of an answer, but there was no point at all in beating around the bush.

 

“And I'm not giving up the bar or Marlene and Denzel.” She was quick with that response, jumpy almost. I didn't like that because it reeked of defensiveness.

 

“I would never expect you to. I'd be pretty angry if you even offered, actually.” She was wary. The way she looked down for just a split second before looking everywhere but at me told me as much.

 

“It is a lot to ask for me to be here every night. Tseng and Elena have been understanding this week and Reno isn't straying far these days, though not for the reasons you might think.” I do love it when she quirks her eyebrows up at the hint of juicy gossip. She's not one to repeat anything, but she does enjoy being in the know because it helps her to not put her foot in her mouth. I'd tell her about Reno another time. It wasn't like he'd be coming around anytime soon.

 

“What are you saying, Rude?” Somehow, I'd caught her off guard.

 

Maybe I had thought about this more than she had. Maybe what was completely obvious to me was still murky to her. I didn't know and it didn't matter for much longer. “I'm saying that I can't be here every night because it isn't fair to my colleagues. But I am sure that I can work something out with my idiots if you can work something out with your housemates.”

 

She thought about this for a few minutes – quick to understand and move on from whatever had troubled her before. “That seems fair. I'll talk to Cloud and both kids about it when Marlene gets back. But for tonight...” She trailed off with a shrug.

 

“I'll stay a little longer, but it's probably better if I don't stay the night.” She nodded but was a little down about it. I slid my hand down her bare arm and pulled her towards me. I was always a little amazed at how she let me have my demanding, possessive gestures. Maybe she was secure enough in the knowledge that she could kick my ass into next month that it just wasn't a big deal to her. No matter the reason, I enjoyed her allowing it.

 

I enjoyed the feel of the upper strands of her trapezius muscle tensing slightly under my fingers as I pulled her head toward mine. I also enjoyed the way she never quite let me completely control kissing her. One of her hands always seemed to rest on my throat with confident pressure – not firm or even pressing at all. Just confidence and presence that made it everything I could do not to take her right there on the barroom floor or the living room couch or the back row of a movie theater.

 

“After all,” I said as I pulled her in by her forearm for one of those kisses that would make self-control challenging, “You'll need time to rearrange some furniture and figure out a way to muffle your screams.”


	28. Yuffie - 28

Oh my. Was that ever an instructive week. Thanks to a blizzard that rolled in on our second day, there was no snowboarding to be had. But I'll just be honest about not giving a crap. The white out was an excellent excuse to stay inside wearing as little as possible and not feel even the smallest twinge of guilt. Twinges of other sorts were much more enjoyable, anyway.

 

But yeah. Educational. My list of favorite things to learn ranged from the hot-as-hell (Vince may not have much to say but that does NOT mean that he is orally deficient) to the hilarious (dicks are weird, but in the best way possible) to the baffling (why did he spend hours on end worshiping my A cup tits?)There were also side-notes that got added to what I already knew. Like that Vincent's cuddling instinct has a Limit Break level that leads him to do nearly anything to keep me right next to him post-sex. This wasn't necessarily a bad thing, but it did make the housekeeping staff's job slightly awkward and earned me some knowing looks from the little blue-haired lady in the room next to ours.

 

Which brings me to the only complaint Vincent lodged the entire week. Well, the only one not related to having to trek out into the blizzard to spring for a Hi-Potion to fix a vicious bite he left behind my left ear. But he had no room to complain about the cold really 'cause once I was not bruised black and the bleeding stopped he got thawed out fast enough. No, the only repeated complaint he lodged was that I was 'so quiet.'

 

I guess that's not really a complaint. And it was hardly valid once we both realized that all he had to do was use that majestic mouth of his on my lady-parts and his issue with my being quiet about things was lifted. Well, for a little while. But seriously. I'd spent HOW many years in forced silence so as not to alert my dad/friends/housemates? That's not going to be overcome all at once.

 

But all amazing things must come to an end. And that trip, having transcended amazing and forged right on through supplication to various deities, waving to breathy groans, and finally coming to rest at seeing stars and wondering why celibacy was even an option, ended as it had began. On a train with me wondering how on earth I ever consented to this method of travel. Thankfully, it was an overnight trip again so I slept through most of it.

 

And home again, home again we were. Vincent had called Tifa along the way and she'd gone over to relight the fire in the wood stove, so coming home was a warm and pleasant experience. Tifa'd even left breakfast warming on top of the stove – biscuits and scrambled eggs, Leviathan bless her wonderful heart. We restocked the pantry and fridge and dropped off Vincent's shirts at the cleaners that morning and spent the afternoon sorting mail and catching up on work that we'd missed.

 

Reeve was asking Vincent to do more and more for WRO and it was a little surprising that Vincent was agreeing to most of it. A LOT of it involved various maps that were the size of bed sheets, so things in the office were getting more than a little cluttered and crowded.

 

I caught my foot on the curled edge of the one that was spread on the floor as I headed for the filing cabinet to put in a stack of paid bills. “I think it might be time for you to get an office at good ole HQ. This is getting hazardous to my health.”

 

He handed me a pin attached to a string. “Stick that in Junon, please?” I did as he asked since I was standing on Junon anyway. “And no. I have no desire at be under contract and an office would mean a contract.”

 

I rolled my eyes as he traced a circle around Junon and me with the string. “Doesn't have to. After all, you know the boss-man.”

 

Vincent humphed and I opened my mouth to spell out all the benefits of having a reasonable amount of space in this room for overnight guests or starting a collection of large suits of armor but I was stopped by the doorbell.

 

Forgetting Junon and her pin and string related problems, I stepped over a box of ammo and Vincent to go open the door for Cloud. I let him in and offered something hot to drink while he shed his coat and scarf. He accepted and I headed to the kitchen while he poked his head into the office-come-storage-unit to say hi to Vincent. I made two cups of tea and took one to Cloud, only to find that he had been sucked in to Junon's crop circle.

 

“Where's mine?” Vincent gestured to the cup in Cloud's hands and mocked hurt feelings.

 

“In the kitchen. I'm not risking life and limb walking in here with both hands full.” With that bit of sass, I left the room and both men followed in my wake. Vincent stopped in the kitchen to get his cup, but Cloud followed me to the living room. I perched on the arm of the sofa and Cloud reached into his back pocket for an envelope and handed it to me.

 

“I got a call for that about a week ago. I was supposed to find you and take it to you immediately, but I couldn't make it to Icicle Village in the storm,” he dropped into a chair after I'd taken it from him.

 

Just by the feel of the paper, I knew it was from Wutai. The gold edges of the envelope told me if was from my dad before I even looked at the familiar scrawl of his handwriting spelling out my name in the script of my homeland.

 

The only reason it did not get consigned to the garbage instantly was because Dad had called Cloud to deliver it to me. All of his other messages had come through the regular post or from various ambassadors and consuls. The old man had taken a lot of trouble and expense to make sure I got this one, so I gave him the benefit of the doubt and opened it as Vincent settled on the couch next to my perch.

 

A single sheet of silk-shot paper contained a simple request. A REQUEST. Not an order, not a demand. Just a request to see me 'one last time.'

 

I looked at Cloud and narrowed my eyes. “What else?”

 

Cloud looked from me to the floor before he answered, “He's really sick. Yellow, and he can't sit or stand up. He told me the doctors have given him about two months at the most, but he thinks he won't last that long.”

 

I thought about his long and hard. I had known that my dad was failing, but I didn't realize how fast it was happening. The last time I'd seen him had been more than a year before and it had been more than six months since I'd talked to him. It was just easier to get along with him at a distance.

 

I sighed, “Then I don't have a choice. I have to go to Wutai.” Oh, how I didn't want to though! It was three days until Christmas and going would suck the joy of the season right out of me. But I couldn't wait to go after the holiday because there was too much to do here in Edge – everyone would be coming in for reeve's wedding and I wasn't going to miss a second of that.

I fished my phone out of my pocket and dialed Cid's number. If I had to do this, I wanted to get it over with quickly. Cid did not disappoint once he heard my story. He could make it to Edge by nightfall and I would spend another night slightly green and sleeping while traveling. We'd make Wutai by morning and I could figure out what dad wanted and leave most likely before lunch. The only condition he put on it was that instead of bringing me back to Edge tomorrow, I had to stay in Rocket Town overnight and come in on the twenty-fourth with him, Shera, and Barret who was due to travel with them, too. I agreed and hung up.

 

Cloud had gone, but I could thank him later. Vincent had been listening to my end of the conversation with Cid and when I snapped my phone closed he nodded at me and said, “We leave tonight, then?”

 

“Not we. I'll go by myself. No need for you to get sucked in to this mess.” I was glad I had started a load of laundry that morning. I headed towards the laundry room to switch it to the dryer. Every pair of jeans I owned was in there.

 

Vincent made that 'hn' sound and I wondered if I had really thought that I would be going alone. “Right. So Cerberus or the service revolver?” Yeah, I wasn't getting out of here alone.

 

“You don't have to go,” I called as I swapped stuff from one machine to the other. I didn't hear his reply if there was one over the sound of the dryer starting.

 

I walked back out and he was standing there looking at me with his arms crossed. “Which one?”

 

“Cerberus. He's kinda hot,” I gave an overblown wink and Vincent rolled his eyes.

 

This trip was going to suck on so many levels. I didn't know what they were and I didn't really want to think about it too hard right then. My dad was dying and I wasn't going to be all cut up about it. There was just way too much bad blood between us now for me to feel much more than the barest bit of sadness over the fact that a life, any life, was close to ending.

 

I thought about that mass of dysfunction the rest of the day. I know I was distracted and not much fun that day or in to the night. There was just such a long history – dating back to my earliest memories of my father. He was seldom ever around for long and when he was he was out of his mind drunk. I heard the elders whisper that it was because I looked like my mother and that it broke his heart to look at me because he loved her so much. When I was really small, I felt horribly guilty about that. To the point of cutting all my hair off with a pair of dull scissors and coloring the bare patches on my head with my paints. But the older I got the more angry I got – if what they said was true then it was hardly MY fault. I did not ask to look like my mother, I didn't try to or plan it out to hurt him. Eventually, I got really bitter and tied everything I could to get his attention. None of it ever worked – he just sank deeper into his bottles with every story that reached his ears of the things I was doing.

 

I was able to recognize that there were a lot of things I could have done along the way that could have eased the ever-growing tension between us. But, I was a kid and I just didn't have the knowledge or the sense to do any of the right things. So at nine I started running away in the name of materia. It was vastly unsuccessful and I never stayed gone long because I had no real means of protecting myself. So I started learning how to do that and found out that I was really good at it. That meant I coulds be gone longer and by the time I was 15, I was gone more than I was home.

 

And my dad never noticed. At least he never noticed to mention it when I'd come back for some reason. So when I turned 16, I left with no plans to go back. But, that's not how things worked out. I did go back and in the process nearly lost every friend I'd managed to make because of my own greed. I thought that hoards of materia would help me bring back the ancient glory of Wutai, but all that I really wanted for myself was for my old man to look me in the eye. Acknowledge that I existed. But that didn't happen.

 

It didn't happen again when I went back after Meteor. The opposite happened, actually. Geostigma was fast and it didn't take my dad and his friends long to point the finger of blame right at me. That HURT. Being ignored sucked. Thinking that my dad couldn't love me because he loved my mom so much stung. But being blamed by my own father for bringing a deadly disease that I clearly did not have into my own beloved home country? That hurt like hell.

 

I thought about all of that until I finally fell asleep, green around the gills yet again. I half-woke when the airship landed but it was so early that I just rolled over and went back to sleep. At the very reasonable hour of 8am, I was up and ready to go do whatever it was I thought I was doing. Cid was going to wait, and I promised to not be long.

 

The old coot hugged me before Vincent and I set out for the village. He was going to be a pretty awesome dad, but I'd be damned if I would tell him that.

 

My arrival was heralded as if I was some sort of minor god. I hated every minute of it and avoided everyone but the small children. The adults I remembered from my own childhood or the pair of years I spent tending to the ill in the little huts outside of town. The handful of survivors that I saw I also smiled and waved to, but I had no time for the masses who had been so ready to exile me but who now acted as if they were my number one fans.

 

Because here is what really burned my soul. Everyone who jumped on the 'Yuffie brought Midgar disease' bandwagon spent about two years on it unless they ended up with it and landed under my care. But even those who eventually contracted Geostigma and were cured by Aerith's Great Gospel never stopped blaming me – they just kept their mouths shut about it or ventured to guess that my caring for everyone was my way of atoning for the sin of bringing it in the first place. Those things, I could forgive. Mistakes happen, people say stupid and hateful things when they are scared. But not a single person, not a single one ever said a single word of apology when the truth came out.

 

When the world realized that Geostigma was from the taint of Jenova in the Lifestream, Wutai was not left out of the circle of knowledge. But, instead of a sheepish, 'sorry about all that,' every person who had decided to blame me and point the finger at me just began to act like nothing had ever happened and that everything was just fine and cool again. 'Oh har har Yuffie you are such an aggravation har har.' I cornered my dad about it and pretty much demanded an apology only to be greeted with a slightly inebriated question of 'what for?'

 

In that moment, I was done. I loved Wutai. I had loved the people. I had no more love to give them when they expected me to be humble and submissive to their needs and honor their wishes when they were sick or dying but could not even muster the humility to admit that they had been wrong about me. No, I was done. I'd left and had not been back.

 

Dad's house was dark, hushed. Servants moved about more silent than usual. It was the house of a dying person and even the walls and floors seemed to know it. The mirrors were all covered with white cloth and white tassels hung from the doors to his rooms. I stopped a passing maid and instructed her to give Vincent anything he wanted before spending ten minutes convincing him that going into that room with me would be able the stupidest thing he could do. Eventually, he agreed to wait but I had to promise him the moon and stars to get him to.

 

The sight of my father, always a strong man and full of life even when he was soused, prone, jaundiced, and barely breathing was difficult to bear. But he was awake and I wanted to get this over with. I walked closer to him so that I would be in his peripheral vision and he turned to look at me.

 

“So you came after all,” he croaked in Wutaiian.

 

“Only because you asked. What did you want?” Seriously. Even seeing him like this the only pain I felt was for a vital and energetic life being slowly sucked away. I was half him genetically, but that was where the connection between us ended.

 

“You still hate me so much.” It was a statement, not a question.

 

“Sort of. More like I just have no use for you.” Why beat around the bush? He knew it anyway so there was no point in dressing up a deathbed with false sentiment.

 

I guess I hurt his feelings because his eyes went a shade darker and he frowned. “I have failed you. Time and again, I have failed you and you have no heart to forgive me?”

 

Low blow, old man. But dead wrong. “I forgave you for what you couldn't help a long time ago. So I ask again, what do you want from me?”

 

His face fell and I knew fear. “I have failed you again. I did not honor your last request to me.”

 

I went cold before the heat of anger surged through me. The last time I had talked to him, six months before, I had asked him to do one simple thing. One painless, easy, simple thing. “You never named another heir?” If I spat that at him, then it was no less than he deserved. And his reply did nothing but fan the flames of my rage.

 

“Yuffie, I thought I had more time...,” he gestured weakly with one hand when he dished out that pathetic excuse.

 

Pathetic, just like all the other times that he couldn't look me in the eye like he was doing right now and just tell me the truth. “So do it now! Call in one of the consuls and name someone other than me.”

 

He shook his head and stared at the ceiling. “I am too far gone. Without the drugs, I am insane from the pain. With the drugs, I am slow, weak, and tired. Anything I decreed now could be contested and overturned easily enough.”

 

I simply could not believe this. I crossed to where he lay and leaned over him so that he had no choice but to look at me or close his eyes to avoid it. “So, once again you leave me to deal with something you didn't think out. Thinking you 'have time', that you are immortal and excused from being a reasonable human being.”

 

“If you are calling me selfish, it bears no resemblance to yourself at all, does it?” He was starting to get pissed. And for a split second I hoped that his rage would cause him to have an aneurysm and die already, but I gave that up shocked at my own wrath. He was a jerk and a shit dad, but he was still a living being that didn't deserve THAT.

 

“Yeah, I'm selfish. But I learned from the best so you can go to your pyre knowing that at least you taught me something useful.” Nobody wants to be called selfish, but as a character flaw I'd long accepted that as one of my principle ones and tended to try to fight it as much as I could. The desire to do stuff just for me was still strong, but it was getting easier to ignore.

 

I stood up straight again and crossed my arms over my chest. “I have no interest in sticking around if all you are going to do is attempt insults and show your own stupidity.” I turned on my heel and headed for the door.

 

“Yuffie, I'm not done talking to you!” He was trying his damnedest to get up and follow me.

 

“I'm done listening.” I paused at the door and looked over my shoulder at him. “You wanted to see me, you've seen me. As far as I can tell you've told me anything I might need to know. Now, we have reduced to being uncivil to one another and you are barking orders at me like I was nine again. I'll be back to light your funeral pyre and I'll stay long enough to figure out who to abdicate to and I don't want your opinion on that.”

 

I put my hand to the door handle and started to pull it open. “You are EXACTLY like your mother. She could never bear orders either.”

 

I would have loved to kick him right in the head right then. Kick him in the head, then crush his ribs with another well-aimed boot. But instead I just walked out the door, down the hall, and out the front door. Later on, I would be surprised that no one stopped me, but right then I just wanted to be gone from there. I could feel Vincent fall into step next to me as I stormed through the town and out the gates, towards the waiting _Shera II._

 

I needed to rant and scream, so I headed straight for the bridge. I loved Vincent and he was a wonderful companion and good at doling out the comforts, but the level of screaming that I wanted to do was more suited to Cid's company. Not like I could just ditch Vince, of course he'd still be there. But Cid would start screaming back and that was just what I wanted.

 

I ranted the whole story out in about three minutes, leaving the entire crew confused and startled. Cid came through with pissed off offers to go put Godo out of my misery and I almost said yes, but again. Appalled by that. Another twenty minutes of the most colorful language I could muster and I was pretty much out of being angry. Still hurt and mad about it all, but blown out enough to let Cid prep for takeoff while I followed Vincent to the center of the ship.

 

This one actually had a bunk room in the middle. Cid is capable of learning!

 

“Guh,” I grunted as I tossed myself down on one of the beds. “There goes my holiday spirit.”

 

Vincent picked up my legs and sat down, back against the wall. I dropped my feet into his lap and he shook his head, “You'll find it again tonight in a warm kitchen in Rocket Town. I have one question, then I'll not bring up this whole fiasco again until after the first of the year.”

 

My stomach gave a sick lurch as the airship hovered then took off. My answer of, “Ask away,” came through my hand.

 

“What will you have to DO, exactly once you assume ruler-ship?” he looked a little concerned and a little curious. And a lot worried.

 

I shrugged, “Well, leadership is actually maternal so I'll have to find the closest female relative I have on my mother's side. Dad has only been in there because my mother died when I was a baby. He's been a steward more than anything but people liked him. Once I find that one girl, I name her my heir, then abdicate.” I ran a hand through my hair and blew out a puff of air. “All told, it should take less than a week. I'll be the fucking Queen so I'll be able to make stuff happen faster.”

 

UGH. What a pain! Why couldn't he have just been a decent person for ONCE?

 

“Okay,” Vincent slapped my thigh and I yelped. “Enough of that. Your angry face is not all that attractive and I'm tired of looking at it today.”

 

“Excuse me! I'll make whatever face I want!” I nudged him into the wall with one leg and pulled a dramatic frown.

 

He narrowed his eyes at me and shook his head. “I'll bet you ten gil that I can get you blushing and giggling with one word.”

 

“One word? Ten gil? This should be good,” I quirked an eyebrow at him and waited for his one word key to Gigglefest.

 

He inclined his head slightly and gestured, indicating the room we were in with a wide sweep of his hand. Then, one side of his mouth twitched up and he whispered, “Airship.”

 

Yeah, yeah. So he won ten gil off me but I just stole it back while he was sleeping that night.


	29. Shera - 29

I was a rocket scientist, one of the youngest and brightest in my graduating class. I graduated with Honors and was recruited for ShinRa’s Space Division the week before graduation. I survived the Lifestream and Geostigma and marrying Cid Highwind. I was also thirty five weeks and three days pregnant and was quite ready to be done with the pregnant bit and on to the wailing child in the middle of the night bit. But as my doctor was prone to telling me, all in good time.

At least distractions were coming. Unexpected and happy distractions, thought I honestly did not know what kind of mood Yuffie was going to be in. I was not expecting her to be smiling and sunny. I was hard pressed to say why I didn’t expect it though. She’s seldom ever not sunny.

She and Cid came in the back door picking on each other and with Vincent shaking his head and wearing the ghost of a smile on his face. While Cid and Yuffie continued to exchange verbal barbs at one another’s expense, Vincent crossed the room to let me hug him.

That is how it always had been. He’d become somewhat of a regular here over the years and that made me happy. It meant that he was comfortable here and I thought there were not many places in the world where he was comfortable. He’d never gotten completely comfortable with me hugging him, but I hug everybody who comes in the kitchen door. He’d just dealt with it and moved on.

This night, I was full of joy at having family here. And that is legitimately how I felt about all of Cid’s old traveling companions. Some were closer than others and some we got to see more often, but one and all they were always welcome visitors. And Cid was always so happy to see anyone who came all the way to Rocket Town. Especially this year since our usual wintering in Edge was interrupted by what I was sure was a small water buffalo in my abdomen.

But that was not stopping me from spending Christmas and the turn of the year there! Not with a wedding in the offing. I love weddings although I always cry and I was even happier that Reeve was the one tying the knot. He’d confided to me once that he’d been married before, actually had the whole wife-and-family going. But they had all died in all the horrors that Midgar endured. I’m not sure how many people knew that, but by my reckoning Reeve was a remarkable person just for his resilience to all the loss and hardship he’d endured. Not that I think it didn’t hurt him terribly, but he did what few can do – really, truly, move forward.

But before any of that could be enjoyed, I had a kitchen full of crazy people to deal with. After exchanging pleasantries with Vincent for a few minutes, I called Cid’s attention to the fact that I was, in fact, in the room and that he had, in fact been gone for a day and a half. Yuffie laughed heartily at his sudden about face to cover is tracks. That man knows what side his bread is buttered on.

I gave everyone a job to do before we all sat down for dinner and we were all fat and happy in record time. Yuffie and I left the boys to clean up while we planted ourselves in the living room and played catch-up. Yuffie was one of the one’s we didn’t see much of and I regretted that because her company was nothing short of refreshing. She filled me in on what she cold of work, friends, and what had happened in Wutai. I was sure that her reaction at the time was not as level and cool as her insistence to me that it amounted to nothing more than a future major inconvenience. But she insisted that was what it was so I did my best to not show that it worried me.

They had all arrived home so late, that by the time that the boys were done with the clean up and had returned from smoking at the far side of the back yard, it was well past my bedtime. I had already pointed Yuffie in the direction of the newly added guest room, so another round of hugs for everyone and I was off to bed.

Cid came to bed not long afterward and was inclined to grumble to the point that my nightly reading became impossible.

“Okay, spit it out,” I encouraged him. “You have my undivided attention now, Grump.”

“I just don’t get it, babe.” Here it came! “I mean, do you think he loves her at all? Really? Even just a little bit? I asked him and all he did was look at me with that creeper stare of his.”

“Oh, Cid! You didn’t!” I smacked him in the chest with my book. “For such a smart man you are the biggest dummy!”

I meant that too. I loved Cid with every ounce of my being, but he could be so incredibly stupid sometimes. Vincent was probably the best friend he had – he’d turn up and those two would alternate between planning all sorts of genius level machines and holding down every piece of furniture in the living room with sprawled out legs and arms and junk food while watching weird documentaries about underwater ghosts ships or animated shows about vampires. They could finish each others sentences and frequently lapsed into a language all their own that involved hand gestures and repetitive use of the word ‘fuck.’ Vincent actually knew I was pregnant the night I found out and told Cid because Cid called him before he called his own brother.

And yet, Cid was thick enough…. I had to be fair though. Cid had some serious blinders on when it came to Yuffie. He’d been the annoying uncle to her for a while before he’d met her father. Then he promoted himself to surrogate dad since he was really unimpressed with Godo. And that made it hard for him to see her properly.

“Do you honestly think that Vincent – our Vincent! Is the type of grope her backside in front of anybody? Honestly, Cid.” I gave him a shove for good measure. “And you ASK him outright if he’s in love with her and you expect him to do anything other that stare at you like you’ve gone crazy? It isn’t really any of your business, anyway.”

Cid huffed and crossed his arms. “I don’t expect him to fuck her on the kitchen table for all the world to watch, but Shera,” his voice was genuinely confused and concerned now. “He doesn’t even hold her hand or give her a hug!”

“Cid, he wouldn’t! This is Vincent you are talking about, not Barret or even Cloud. He’s shy. He’s reserved.” The last time he’d had a girlfriend, the parents of his current one were probably just dating. But I didn’t say that because that might make Cid hyperventilate. I caught the sound of a quiet hum from the living room in the silence before Cid started again.

“I don’t care if he’s shy as a virgin schoolgirl, if he actually gave two shits about that little girl…”

“Grown woman, Cid. She is twenty years old and do I need to remind you that according to your own report she stood next to you and faced down Sephiroth AND that she was gung-ho to go help Cloud the second time around?” He looked away and I knew that I’d won the point – FINALLY.

I realized that the sound from the living room was the radio. It wasn’t loud enough to be disturbing, so I didn’t think much of it.

“Fine, fine. But it doesn’t change anything. I’d think that if he loved her, or even cared just a little bit he’d show it SOMEHOW.” Truculent child Cid is more pitiful than annoying so I didn’t give him another earful.

“Maybe he does and you are just too thick to see it. Or maybe, just maybe open displays of affection are not in his character.” I sighed when Cid opened his mouth to protest yet again. “You left the light on in the yard again and I’m thirsty. I’ll take care of both and you try to calm yourself down a little.” I threw back the covers and put my feet into my slippers.

“Naw, I’ll get the light. Let me just find some pants.” Yeah, I married a man who would probably be content in a nudist colony. I swear on my degree that there was not a soul alive who had not seen him stark naked, mostly against their will. I know the first time he wandered the house like that I certainly wasn’t prepared for full frontal, though afterward, my curiosity was piqued.

I left him hunting for his clothes and made my way to the kitchen. As I neared the living room, I oculd hear the radio better and I could also hear Yuffie giggle.

“Stop that and concentrate,” Vincent said, a smile in his voice. “The steps are the same, just faster now.”

More giggling and Yuffie replied, “I know that, but it’s just so silly!”

“If you have to stop because you are laughing too hard I’m going to make you start over from the very beginning.” I had stopped and was eavesdropping, plain and simple.

“You’d have to wait for a new song to come on, now. This one’s almost over.” A snicker that ended in a snort.

“That’s better. See, stupid song or not, you know what you are doing now.” He sounded… proud of her. She had spent the last several weeks complaining loud and long about his trying to teach her how to dance when she already knew how. She’d had a hard time getting the hang of how much control formal dancing took and hearing his pride in her progress made me smile.

The song ended and I heard the thud of one of Cid’s boots in the bedroom. I missed whatever Yuffie said next, but Vincent’s reply was suggestive.

“No thank you. I’d rather just watch YOU.”

“Flirt.” Her giggle that followed was cut short and I hazarded a peek around the corner, one ear trained on the bedroom. I had already decided what trophy I was going to knock off the shelf next to my arm if I heard Cid coming. I knew I was right about Vincent and I knew because Yuffie never so much as reached for him. She’s an affectionate creature and she would seek his affection in public if he didn’t lavish it on her in private.

And right now, he was lavishing affection on her to the point that I had to look away. Call it what you like, I knew the look in his eyes as he was standing there with her upturned, smiling face in his hands. He was looking at her like she was the only other person in the world that could ever matter. Like moonrise depended on her smile and the stars came out only for the joy of being reflected in her eyes. He was looking at her the way my father still looked at my mother, the way that Cid looked at me.

Another boot fell in the bedroom and as much as I hated to, I grabbed my senior Math Lab trophy from the shelf and dropped it on the floor with a crash.

“Whoa, hey. You okay, babe?” Cid asked picking up his pace down the hall while I pretended to be a bit flustered by my own clumsiness.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just knocking stuff over with my extra girth,” I sighed and picked up the pieces of the trophy. “Too bad about this. I was really proud of winning this one.”

Cid said something about putting it back together and I agreed. We rounded the corner into the living room and I decided that even if he couldn’t fix it, I wouldn’t mourn the loss. Vincent was picking up their bags and Yuffie was kneeling in front of the radio to turn it off. Both as far in opposite directions of where they had been not even two minutes earlier. I felt like I should give them a trophy for that!

Later on I told Cid that I didn’t think he needed to worry about weather or not Vincent cared about Yuffie. When he pressed me for my reasoning, I chalked it up to ‘just a feeling’ and he scoffed but didn’t bring it up again. And that was a very good thing. Cid’s got weird ways of showing his love for me and that look is one of my favorites. Admitting that I knew that look because of him would have spelled the end of me ever getting to see it again.


	30. Vincent - 30

“I refuse to leave this house for the rest of the night and I refuse to leave this town for at least a week.” Yuffie dropped her bag and keys by the front door, kicked off her fuzzy-topped boots and hung her coat and scarf on one of the nearby hooks.

 

“I second both motions,” I told her retreating back as I dumped all of my baggage and assorted junk. Even I was getting tired of traveling so much in such a short time. I'd covered more ground in less time, but I was so much more comfortable and happy right here with Yuffie standing in front of the open fridge frowning darkly at it's contents.

 

“Pizza. Tonight is a pizza night.” She nodded sagely and plucked the delivery menu from Big Rico's Pizzaria out from under a magnet.

 

“I demand chicken, spinach, and Alfredo.” I headed to the laundry room to find something more in the line of I'm-not-moving-from-the-couch than jeans. Fortune favors those who do not put their laundry away in a timely manner and I actually got to claim my gray flannel pants for the first time in weeks.

 

As I came back into the kitchen she said, “Here.” She handed me the menu and started to walk away. “You order. I'm going to go have a bath and wash the funk of airship off me.”

 

So I ordered what I wanted along with dessert then exhibited an intense amount of self control to not spend the forty five minute wait in that bath with her.

 

She liked to tease that I had gotten addicted to her and I had to a point. I had expected it, actually. I was giddy at having the chance to show her that I loved her with actions. Because the words just would not come.

 

I'd tried. I had tried so many times but every time I was frightened to the point of not being able to breathe. Of what exactly I had no idea. I had no worry of her rejecting me if I admitted it – she did not have this debilitating fear and I got to hear that she loved me at least once a day for prompted by things both mundane and exceptional.

 

There was just some part of me that felt so fragile, so green and weak at the thought of speaking those words that it was at times physically painful to even try with the knot in my stomach and my throat constricting. I sincerely hoped that she was not hurt or saddened by what I'm sure must have seemed like a complete lack of reciprocated feeling. The thought that I might be upsetting her was nearly as bad as the fear of telling her.

 

It was awful. Then, along came Cid. Someone should make a movie about his life. They could just call it “My Timing is Off.” It would make millions.

 

Standing in the dark, cigars in hand out by the shed at the back of his house that served as the home for the greasiest and most dangerous of his toys, he'd asked me if I cared about her at all or if I was just killing time. I was shocked and all I could do was just stare at him. He continued in that line for several minutes, gradually falling over his own words more and more but his meaning was clear enough. He had not detected any symptoms of particular regard from me so he was, as usual, concerned for her happiness and well being.

 

I had been too stunned to answer him at all and eventually he'd given up the attempt by declairing that it was none of his business anyway and moving on to a different topic. I was not stunned by his concern or his forwardness in asking, but that he actually felt like he had to ask. It caused me several sleepless hours that night, first wondering if Cid was really that thick but quickly moving on to wondering if my aversion to even remotely public affection was maybe overdeveloped. I ran through so many ideas that night. I wondered if it bothered her that I only ever offered her my arm when there were other people around. It didn't seem to, but she'd seemed fine all afternoon and evening only to be rolled into a tight, tense little ball while she slept with a frown on her face.

 

Seeming fine was not always being fine with her. I was learning that she was a champion at hiding the not fine, too. With the chance of her being not okay at all with my reservations, I decided that I would have to ask her. The very last thing that I wanted was for her to be unhappy. Unhappy and not telling me. Unhappy about something that I could fix and not telling me. Starting that conversation would be hard and I sincerely hoped that she would understand what I was trying to say and just run with it like she usually did.

 

I could hear her moving around on the floor above. She was alternatively humming and singing a few lines of a song, no doubt pausing from time to time to strike a pose. I walked to the far side of the living room and looked up. I caught a glimpse of the bed quilt flying up in the air and realized that she was changing the sheets. She had a love of clean sheets that made me smile. We had at four sets and at least three times a week she changed them out. Initially I'd wondered if this was some sort of repressed neat-freak urge in her, but it wasn't. She just really loved the feel and smell of clean sheets. And I really could not blame her in the least.

 

The doorbell rang and I answered, tipping the delivery guy well and being greeted with a ravenous beast of a woman when I rounded the corner into the kitchen.

 

“Don't take my arm off, please,” I begged as she snatched the box from me and hissed before starting to giggle. “Plates?”

 

“Nope. None of that fancy high-brow crap, mister.” She opened the box and sniffed appreciatively. “Oh, back you devil! Making me pick chicken off when I'm hungry enough to eat it anyway.” She wagged a finger at me and tried to decide which to do.

 

Eating it anyway won out in the end and we both tucked in with enthusiasm. Half way through her second slice, Yuffie looked at me and said, “We need to talk.”

 

Does anyone want to hear those words? I know I didn't but I answered with a level, “Okay. What about?”

 

“The office. I know you don't want to get any sort of official contract with WRO but you need somewhere bigger to keep all that stuff. Not to mention that the guest space would be really nice, too.” She tilted her head to the side and gave me her very best serious look.

 

Given that I was only in trouble for having too many large maps and not for some unknown (or known, whispered my sense of guilt) transgression, I agreed readily to talking to Reeve about it at the next opportunity.

 

She polished off a third piece of pizza and I considered next opportunities while she washed her hands and got herself something to drink. She tucked her legs under her as she sat on the couch and I could feel her eyes on me, wondering what was keeping me so quiet. I had never prayed so hard for someone to be telepathic as I did right then.

 

As usual, she came to my rescue. Well, almost. “What's rattling around in that head of yours, Vince?”

 

It was enough of an opening to relieve some of the pressure, at least. “Just something Cid said the other night that has had me thinking.” She made a sound indicative of curiosity while I settled next to her and propped my feet on the coffee table. “He called my feelings for you into question.” Over her snort of amusement I finished with, “Due mostly to the fact that I am capable of keeping my hands to myself.”

 

“He says as he sticks his stupid-cold fingers up the back of my shirt,” she narrated while she tried unsuccessfully to get away from my chilly touch.

 

“I'm cold. Sue me,” was my cheeky reply.

 

“Maybe later. Cid needs to can it.” As she talked, she responded to the pressure of my hand on her back by inching closer to me on her knees. “First of all, it is none of his business.”

 

“He would argue that I think. Or at least try to,” I countered. She dismissed this with a wave of her hand.

 

“Second, I would think that he'd know you better than to even ask if you gave a crap about me, because I'm sure that is closer to what he said than your version. And third, or maybe it's two and a half. He should know you better than to think you are going to feel me up in front of anybody.” She crossed her arms and huffed indignantly for me.

 

I felt a bad case of laughter brewing somewhere in the vicinity of my lungs. I fought it back and queried, “You seem quite indignant on my account. That is both touching and confusing.”

 

She rolled her eyes and draped her arms around my neck. “Silly man. Let me enlighten you. What Cid doesn’t know is that I am becoming proficient in the favorite methods of communication used by the Wild Valentine.”

 

I couldn't help it then. I had to laugh, just a little. “Is that so?”

 

She nodded emphatically. “Oh yes. Verbal communications are pretty easy to understand and sarcasm tends to be accompanied by a lovely bitch face that means all kids of hell is about to break loose, but understand that is a matter of weeks of study. No, understanding the deeper shades of the Wild Valentine has taken and will continue to take an extreme amount of study and patience.”

 

I was shaking with laughter by then. “Do go on, please. This is fascinating!”

 

She inclined her head in a mock bow and expounded more. “Understanding the nonverbal communications of the Wild Valentine has taken some time and I am by no means an expert. Loaded silences require careful study of the situation to understand completely. Facial expressions help but the angle of that right eyebrow can mean the difference between 'come here you sexy beast' and 'go fuck yourself you idiot.' Again, context is helpful.”

 

She tilted her chin up and cut her eyes back down at me. She was not the only one who was learning a language. I knew THAT look well. She was about to say something that was going to put heat into my face quickly.

 

“And when the Wild Valentine quirks the left side of his mouth up just the slightest bit,” she traced a finger over the spot she'd named. Her eyes got wide and she slicked her tongue across her lips before continuing, “He is thinking something QUITE inappropriate for public discussion.”

 

Yes, I was learning the language of Yuffie's brand of torture very well. “We have strayed from the original topic, now.”

 

“It's your fault. My point is that Cid doesn’t get that there's an awful lot that you can't SAY, so instead you DO. And what you DO you don't do for an audience. Sometimes you even stop yourself from doing stuff when I'm the only one around.” She shook her head and sighed, “Like when you take open your mouth to say something then get all choked on it.”

 

I couldn’t tell if she was trying to give me lead-ins on purpose or if it was accidental. I took a deep breath and opened my mouth to speak only to be embarrassed by the weird string of stammered disconnected words that came out. “Well, sometimes... I just. I don't know HOW... no wait.” I scrubbed a hand over my eyes and frowned.

 

“Yeah, wait. YOU wait.” She gave me a poke in the chest before sticking her index finger in her mouth and chewing on it a little, thinking hard.

 

There were two things that were running through my mind while she sat deep in thought watching me with an intensity that I did not know existed in her. The first was anger at myself for not being able to tell her that it's hard for me to say some things because I didn't want to... well, I didn't want to scare her or hurt myself or cheapen what I felt for her by giving it trite overused words. The second was very much a broken record of, 'please, please, please understand somehow.'

 

I did not have to wait very long. She was as quick in thought as she was in action.

 

With her head tilted to the side again and an uncreative half-smile tugging at the corners of her mouth she said, “Now, I'm going to try to reply to what you can't seem to say and if I'm wrong you have to grow a tongue and say 'no' or laugh and push me off the couch or something, okay?” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and I nodded my agreement with her plan.

 

She put her hands on my face, her cool fingers spread over my cheeks and her eyes locking on to mine. “I love you, too.”

 

I had not realized that I had forgotten to breathe. She accused me later of giving her windblown hair, but in the moment she only squeaked and protested that she enjoyed her ribs whole while I held her tight to me.

 

If there had ever been any doubt in my mind that with her was where I needed to be, it was erased then. The addition of that fourth word made sealed the deal. She understood. She understood what I was trying to tell her and just could NOT manage. Could not manage, yet.

 

She let me crush her for a few minutes before she started to dramatically gasp for breath and ask what I was going to do when they found her lifeless body on the couch on Christmas Day. I loosened my grip on her, but there was no way I was going to let go of her completely. Not yet.

“Okay, so now I know! I'll cut you a deal,” she kissed the tip of my nose and looked down at me smiling. “In the future, you need to come up with some reply or another that you CAN manage to me saying I love you.”

 

“Okay. I can do that,” I answered with a nod.

 

“And if the mood ever takes you, I wouldn't mind a bit of hand-holding around other people.” She tried to make that sound flirty and dismissive, but I knew better. Like I said, she wasn't the only one learning a language.

 

“I'll see what I can do about that,” I told her with every intention of swallowing my own discomfort and doing that very thing. Maybe practice would make perfect.

 

She narrowed her eyes at me before giggling and shaking her head. “I do love you, you goofball.”

 

“I know,” I said with a smile and a shrug.


	31. Marlene - 31

Christmas! Well, Christmas Eve really.

 

And not just any old Christmas, but one with EVERYBODY there. Even Reeve himself showed up with his boyfriend Peter. But Tifa said they were something else now since they were getting married in less than a week. That was plenty exciting by itself, but CHRISTMAS!

 

When I got back from staying with Daddy for a couple of weeks they'd rearranged all the bedrooms. Tifa said it was so that there would be more room for everyone who was staying with us. Cloud had moved all of his stuff into his office and Denzel was bunking with him for the week. Denzel'd be back in his room down the hall after everyone left, but for now, Cid and Aunt Shera were in there.

 

Wow, was Aunt Shera ever huge. I had no idea ladies got that big when they were going to have a baby. And Aunt Shera's tall too, so it was like she was bigger than ever – but still just as sweet and snuggly. And she doled out the candy with a generous hand, too.

 

But Daddy was in Cloud's old room and Tifa was in the tiny room that had been Yuffie's when she lived here. I'd been gone when the rearranging had happened, so she told me I could have my pick of either one when everyone was gone, but for the week, I was with Daddy since Nanaki said Daddy snored too loud and would keep him awake. Nanaki also said that Tifa was prettier and that was true. Daddy is handsome, but Tifa IS a lot prettier.

 

Tifa laughed and laughed at that. It was nice to hear Tifa laugh, it had been a long time since she'd been as happy as she was now. I thought it had a lot to do with all of our friends being together for a nice long time. And maybe a little to do with Mr. Rude hanging out here a lot. They smiled at each other a lot and not just when they kissed, either.

 

He'd told me that I didn't have to call him Mr. Rude, but even as nice as he was he was still REALLY TALL and just a little scary. Unless he was wearing a bonnet and feather boa at tea time. But no one can be scary in a feather boa. Not even a little bit. But even then, I called him Mr. Rude. I just couldn't NOT do it.

 

Daddy wasn't crazy about Mr. Rude and Tifa liking each other as much as they did. I was proud of him though 'cause he didn't get angry about it, just kind of confused and annoyed. Daddy was doing a lot better about not getting angry about things.

 

“The world is changin' every day, Marlene. Thinkin' you know everything is a sure way to learn that you don't know nothin'!” He said things like that a lot those days. I sort of understood what he meant, but I wasn't a grown up so I didn't think I knew much of anything. I wondered if all grown-ups thought they knew everything, but that was a question for Tifa, not Daddy.

 

But there was nothing at all that could dampen anyone's happiness. It was Christmas and everyone was together. Even Aerith was there too in her own way. I could always tell when her spirit was nearby. This time, the Christmas lilies that Tifa had let me put on all the tables in the bar and around the house were so much brighter – the white, pink, and red flowers almost sparkled. That's where Aerith was for me. In the flowers and trees and growing things.

 

Well, almost everyone was together. I had been in the kitchen decorating sugar cookies with Denzel when Mr. Rude came in the back door. I gave him a hug and Denzel shook his hand before going to get Tifa. Mr. Rude stole a cookie and I scolded him for it but he just smiled and took another one!

Tifa was happy to see him of course. I noticed that Tifa got a little... brighter when Mr. Rude was there. I guess 'casue she loved him, but no matter why it made pretty Tifa even prettier. They chatted for a little while about not much (I didn't listen in 'cause that's not nice, but they were right there in the room so I couldn’t help but hear some things.) Tifa asked him to stay for lunch but he said he couldn't. Tifa's little light faded a bit at that and she told him that it would be fine if he wanted to. But he said that his Mom was in town.

 

Tifa's reaction to that was kind of funny. She almost shoved him out the back door, telling him to get going and she'd see him later and that she didn't understand why he'd come by at all if that was the case. Mr. Rude chuckled at her and pulled a present out of his coat pocket for her. It was sort of small, but not tiny, flat and a little wide. I hoped I would get to see it, but it isn't nice to pry so if I didn't I would live with it.

 

She thanked him with her light coming back on full force then asked Denzel to run upstairs and get her present for Mr. Rude. I knew what that one was, because I'd been with her when she bought it. I had never seen anything like it before but Tifa had explained that they used to be pretty common. Usually, she'd told me, they were engraved with the person's name – that's why they were called ID bracelets. But she had not had Mr. Rude's name put on it, just a date. I'd asked her what was special about the date she'd picked, but I guess she didn't hear me 'cause she didn't answer.

 

She gave Mr. Rude his gift then started shooing him out the door again. He laughed a little more and kissed her, making me giggle and Denzel get kind of pink. I don't know WHY Denzel always blushed when grown-ups kissed. I mean, he'd given Cate, the sweet girl down the street with the cool pigtails, a kiss on the cheek. How was the grown-ups kissing any different? Another question for Tifa if Denzel hadn't sworn me to secrecy.

 

I was curious about one thing that I could ask though. When Mr. Rude left, I brushed some of the colored sugar off my front and asked Tifa, “Why doesn't Mr. Rude ever stay very long when everybody is here?”

 

Mr. Rude stayed when it was just us – me, Denzel, and Cloud. And he would stick around if Vincent or Reeve or Yuffie was here, but they are all here a lot because they live nearby. But he never stayed very long if Daddy was here or really anyone else. I didn't understand at all and it bothered me a little bit. Did he not like Daddy or Cid or Nanaki?

 

Tifa just smiled and explained, “I think that it is because he doesn’t want to intrude on our family time. We aren't all together like this very often, right? And all of us have not always gotten along very well with Rude and some of his friends, so it is a little awkward now that things are different.”

 

“I guess I can see that,” I said. “But it is sort of silly too. How can it ever get unawkward if no one tries?”

 

“You are exactly right, Marlene. But,” she gave me a hug, “Everyone needs to be okay trying first. I don't think that Rude thinks that a big holiday is the best time to try that.”

 

I nodded and I guess I could understand that. But that was a very grown-up idea. I felt like there would be no better time. I mean, everyone was in a good mood and there was lots of laughing and goofing around. Cid and Aunt Shera were hanging mistletoe in weird places and Daddy and Cloud were trying everything that they could to ruin the intense game of Go Fish that Vincent and Nanaki were engaged in. Yuffie had disappeared into the attic with a wink at Tifa who bit back giggles at whatever was going on with that.

 

The plan for the day was for us all to have lunch, then find something fun to do together, before having presents and dinner and dessert before the fireworks show that night. Denzel and I were both pretty excited about the fireworks.

 

Tifa told me to go get myself cleaned up a little before helping Denzel set the table for lunch. I was a mess of colored sugar and icing and felt kind of bad about it. I wished that I could have been neater, but at least this time most of the mess was on me instead of on the table or the floor. I hopped down and headed upstairs to wash up, telling the boys at the table that I'd need their spots soon.

 

When I came back down, Denzel already had the plates and everything set out and was shuffling his feet waiting for Vincent and Nanaki to move before we started pushing tables together. Daddy and Cloud were not being helpful at speeding them up.

 

I sighed and walked over to look over Nanaki's shoulder at his cards, then I looked at Vincent's. Crossing back over to Nanaki I pointed to the two 3's that he had. “Ask for those.” Vincent frowned at me, Nanaki did as I told him to, and they had no choice but to break up the game.

 

“Cheating is not fair, Marlene,” Vincent reminded me, frowning still because he had lost.

 

“Neither is holding up lunch. Now scoot!” I shooed them all out of the way while Daddy and Cloud laughed and laughed. I didn't quite see what was so funny, but Denzel and I had a job to do.

 

We moved the tables around into a big square and set places for everyone. Tifa called us back to the kitchen before we were done and Denzel offered to finish up while I went to see what she wanted. And what she wanted was for the cooled cookies to be boxed up so that they would stop disappearing. I worked on that job and Tifa gave every person who came in the kitchen looking for more cookies something to take to the table in the bar instead.

 

Cid got a huge bowl of spaghetti noodles, Daddy got the sauce, Cloud got the salad bowl, Yuffie the bread basket and a knowing look from Tifa. Nanaki ended up with the salad dressings on a plate, Denzel the extra napkins, Aunt Shera, Reeve, and Vincent got to carry pitchers of water, juice, and the coffee pot. Peter was sent in to try to get cookies for everyone else and was booed at when he went back into the bar with a handful of serving spoons instead. Tifa and I giggled together while munching a cookie a piece in the kitchen. She brushed crumbs off my shirt so we wouldn't get caught before we all sat down to eat.

 

Aunt Shera, Yuffie, and Tifa took over the cleanup after lunch was over and invited me to help. And that is when I learned that they had already planned what the fun for the afternoon was going to be. They swore me to secrecy before they told me what they were planning. I was so surprised I couldn’t have told anyone if I'd wanted to! It was a great idea and one I thought must have been Yuffie's idea, but it HADN'T! It was Aunt Shera's! I started wondering then if having a baby inside your belly didn’t make you crazy.

 

We made fast work of the cleanup and they told me to go suggest a snowball fight – boys against girls. I did my best but it was Tifa's backup that cemented the deal. Daddy didn’t like the sound of the teams being divided like that and Cid was loud about not wanting Aunt Shera to participate at all. In the end, it worked out that we'd have bases to defend and Aunt Shera would have to stay safe at the girl's base and no one was allowed to get a snowball within a million miles of her. I could tell by her look that she agreed to it to get Cid to be quiet.

 

So it was all arranged and we headed outside to set everything up. We had it pretty easy convincing the boys to take the corner near the sloped roof over the storeroom. We hadn't even really begun yet before Shera had already slipped out of our 'fort' and was headed back inside to turn up the heat on the small space heaters that Yuffie had started earlier and keep her feet propped up. She got tired in the afternoons so it made sense for her to stay inside.

 

It was so much fun! Yuffie has really good aim and the boys, even thought they didn’t stand a chance anyway, put up a good fight. The four-on-seven odds did not seem fair to Peter, Reeve, and Nanaki, so they broke off and caused all kinds of trouble for both of the teams.

 

But like I said, the boys didn't have a chance. After about an hour of giggling, screaming, and lots of fun, the snow that had collected on the storeroom roof came sliding off in a wet plop and landed on the boys and their fort. It was so funny! They didn't know what had happened and there wasn't enough snow to hurt anyone, so everyone laughed. I declared our team the winners, and Tifa offered hot chocolate and tea to everyone, soothing Cid when he realized that Shera was not outside.

 

After warming up, I was so very sleepy, but I was having too much fun with everyone. I curled up next to Daddy and listened to everyone talk and laugh and tell stories. My eyes got heavier and heavier and I must have fallen asleep because the next thing I remembered was waking up snuggled in my bed and it was getting darker outside. I hurried back downstairs and was a little sad that they had already out the Christmas tree up without me, but Daddy hadn't let anyone finish it so I got to put the star on top and push the button to turn the lights on for the first time.

 

It was so pretty! Then came the presents! So many people make a huge mess about opening presents and they were anything but orderly about it. I think it is better to just rip right on in at Christmas anyway. Being careful can wait for birthdays. I got all kinds of new pretty clothes and ribbons, toys, and lots of new books, too. It was wonderful! Denzel was excited about a skateboard and new games for his handheld.

 

But Denzel had a surprise coming. I think that Cloud and Tifa knew it was coming but I'm not sure anyone else did. In the space between presents and dinner, reeve asked Denzel to be the best man in his wedding in just a few days. Daddy explained to me later that before Denzel had come to live with us he had spent some time living with Reeve's mom, only Denzel didn't know it was Reeve's mom until a lot later.

 

Denzel looked like he had been hit with a rock or something. He asked what he would have to do and Reeve told him not much – just stand next to him and hand him Peter's ring when the time came. Denzel looked kind of nervous about that, but Reeve told him that was all he'd have to do and Denzel agreed. I think Tifa nearly cried. Aunt Shera did cry. Even Daddy was kind of wet around the eyes over it and after he explained it to me, I thought it was super sweet of Reeve.

 

The fireworks were supposed to start at seven that night, so we all made quick work of dinner and dessert before trooping upstairs, climbing out the windows on to the fire escape, and heading for the roof. Everyone had blankets to keep warm and we were all bundled up against the cold. And sure enough, at seven exactly, the first fireworks went off with a big bang! It was wonderful! And we weren’t too close so the noise was not too loud. Daddy held me so that I could have a really good view and after a little while, I looked around at our friends to see what they all thought. Denzel was sitting between Tifa and Cloud, with Nanaki curled up at his feet all of them looking at the sky and smiling. Cloud said something that made Denzel and Nanaki laugh and Tifa groan then laugh. Cid had his arms around Aunt Shera's belly and his chin on her shoulder while he watched the fireworks. Aunt Shera was looking at her belly like she had just figured out a really hard homework question. Yuffie and Vincent were sitting really close together and when I glanced their way, I saw Vincent kiss her.

 

It felt really wrong to have seen them kissing. Like I'd watched something I shouldn't have. It bothered me and I felt kinda guilty about it but I didn't know why. I'd seen Mr. Rude kiss Tifa a lot and Cid had chased Aunt Shera around with the mistletoe all day and those two things were just funny. But I hadn't even known that Yuffie and Vincent even LIKED each other like that.

 

I asked Tifa about it while everyone was getting ready for bed that night. She told me that the reason it was kinda weird was probably because I HADN'T known. She did tell me that it would probably be better to not mention it and when I wondered why she told me that Vincent was really kind of shy and might be embarrassed. I might be little, but I would never embarrass one of our friends on purpose so I decided right then and there to never say another word about it.

 

I had a hard time getting to sleep that night because I was so excited about Santa coming overnight. But I did finally get there and morning came really fast. I shook Denzel awake and we hurried downstairs to find stockings filled with candies and fruit and puzzles and games. I'd been worried that Santa wouldn't be able to find everyone since they were all here, but he did just fine. Even the friends who were at their own houses nearby had stockings full of goodies waiting for them when they got there after breakfast.

 

I watched all of our friends laughing and playing and having a good time together that morning and I realized something. We might not be like other families – with a mom and a dad and kids and grandparents and cousins but we had something that those families didn't have. We were together because we WANTED to be. Some of my friends at school had been complaining before the break about seeing family members that they didn't like for whatever reason but there wasn't anyone here that I wouldn't want to spend time with. And I guess that made me really lucky!


	32. Vincent - 32

Seventh Heaven felt like home that night. Home filled with family that was a little odd, a little loud, and a lot happy. More than once I laughed aloud at something someone did or said and I was touched deeply by Reeve asking Denzel to be his best man. I think Denzel might have gotten a little more comfortable with me since I was one of two people who didn't coo or aww about it. The other being Cloud, but I suspected that he had some forewarning.

 

As we took turns climbing through the windows to get to the roof of Seventh Heaven, as pleased as I was with the night and the company I was displeased with myself. I had been determined to do something – hold her hand, hold her, something – in front of the people that I trusted the most. I was ready and willing to. But I had never gotten the chance. From the time we arrived that morning, there had been constant motion, constant activity and I had not had an opportunity even at dinner. Marlene was on the opposite side of her and between having to rescue teetering cups and answering endless questions, Yuffie only had time to eat and give me the occasional eye roll or smile.

 

I should have been able to find a way to give her what she wanted from me. Tried harder, forced it maybe.

 

She'd made it to the roof before I did and was perched on the ledge, swinging her legs and banging her heels on the short wall. “Well, hey handsome. Come here often?” She giggled at me when I sat down on her right and put my arm around her.

 

“Only when this one really weird chick is here. Short, loud, likes shiny stuff,” I answered, pulled her closer to my side.

 

The first of the fireworks covered her snort of laughter. “She sounds awesome, not weird.” She snuggled as close to me as she could get and rested her hand on my thigh.

 

I smiled down at her then shrugged, “She is. But she's got this real thing about my left arm. Get's all hot and bothered about it for some reason.”

 

“Does she now?” Another bang and flash of colored light showed a thoughtful frown on her face. “I don't see what's so weird about that. All that gold. You said she likes shiny things.”

 

“I did say that didn't I? Maybe that's it then. I'll have to ask her sometime.” I worked two of the pointed fingers of my gauntlet under her coat, sweater, and shirt to scrape gently at the skin just under her ribs.

 

“Don't be a tease,” she hissed under her breath at me as another bang and flash went off and she squirmed. She turned her face up to glare at me but only managed a tempting simmer. “Geeze, I'm glad everybody's distracted! I'm about to lose it because of you!”

 

She was right. Everyone's eyes were cast skyward, watching the fireworks break against the dark sky. I realized in a flash of blue that I could use that to my advantage. After all, she was caught between a claw (which she really did have some sort of hyper-sensual attachment to) and my body (which had a hyper-sensual attachment to her.) So why not?

 

With her face still turned to mine, I lifted my free hand to her face and brushed my finertips over the soft skin just behind her ear. I pulled her face to mine and whispered to her, fireworks flashing white and red overhead, “Keep your eyes open this time.”

 

That had to be the single most intense kiss I have ever given or received in my life. With her head tilted just enough to keep from bumping noses, I could see her pupils contract with every flash from the pyrotechnics and dilate again in the spaces of darkness. Our cool lips heating from being pressed together feather-light at first then just a shade firmer and our faces warming from proximity and the potential for embarrassment if we were spotted. One of her hands found my face while the other, clinging and desperate tangled in the loose ends of my scarf.

 

When I pulled away from her, she gave me a warning look in the next flash of light. “We are going to have to get out of here soon,” she whispered, refusing to let go of anything she was holding on to.

 

“Why's that?” I knew why, but I wanted to hear her answer. It was sure to induce some emotion and I was curious which one.

 

“Because whatever frisky bug had lodged itself in your person can't possibly be exhibitionist enough to take me right here, right now.”

 

Oh, Yuffie. She could never disappoint when it came to having a way with words. It still didn't stop me making her wait a very wiggle-filled hour before we made our excuses.


	33. Tifa - 33

Heaven help us, it had been a crazy week! With a packed house and a busy bar to run, things around Seventh Heaven had been anything but boring.

 

I had eventually had to put Marlene and Denzel on constant mistletoe watch. I had no idea where Cid and Shera had put all of it, but I suspected that Cid was just moving it around and adding more for every bit of it that I found and took down. And it would be Cid that was behind it all. Shera was incredibly tired after the holiday celebrations and spent a lot of time off of her feet and trying to get as much rest as possible. I was a little worried that the traveling and excitement would cause her to go in to labor, but she assured me that was not the case. All the same, there were enough people around who were willing to do anything she wanted, she seemed to get some of her energy back after a few days.

 

Two days after Christmas, I actually had an empty house. Yuffie told me that she'd convinced Vincent to move all of the collected WRO stuff of his to an office at the Headquarters Building and it had taken about three seconds for Reeve to agree to it. Christmas night, Reeve, Peter, Yuffie and Vincent went over and Vincent got to pick from several available. From what I gathered, a day of furious packing happened and Yuffie took everyone but Shera with her to move all of his business stuff out and to HQ.

 

To say that Yuffie was excited would be an understatement. She is not the tidiest person alive, but she's got her limits. I'd seen that office and it really had looked like a bomb had gone off in a storage complex. I did not blame her for her excitement.

 

I expected that everyone would be gone for the better part of the day, and it was nice to have the quiet. Shera was feeling better and kept me company while I worked out the menu for the bar that night and started prepping food. It was so nice to have Shera to myself. She's a very open, comfortable type of person. It was so soothing to be with her – I could be sentimental or silly or serious or silent and she took it all in and rolled with it.

 

We talked babies for a while and some of the things she told me were surprising. I'd never had a friend who was pregnant before and Shera was an excellent first. She seemed strangely peaceful about what she'd have to go through to get that baby out, too and that was nice. Horrors are not enjoyable no matter what kind they were. She let me feel the little booger move, too. Not that feeling was completely necessary. I tried not to look too long because seeing an arm or a leg pass across under her shirt was eerie.

 

While she shelled peas and I diced celery, I told her about how Denzel and Marlene were doing in school and she was pleased as punch that Denzel seemed to have a real knack for science. He wasn't keen on math unless it related to science and we were both dismayed at that. But we both hoped that he would keep his interest in it. Scientists were in short supply those days since the field had taken a huge publicity hit due to ShinRa's antics. Marlene was a good student all around, but she liked reading and art best. Shera and I were both a little baffled by how she ahd excellend so quickly in learning her way around a gun. Shera was sure it was because her teacher was one of the best and most demanding, but even Vincent was pleasantly surprised at how well she was grasping the concepts. I had already told both of them to just not tell me until well afterward once he finally let her shoot one.

 

My heart just couldn’t take the thought.

 

Shera was filling me in on some of the research she'd been doing on the petrol-powered engine and while I didn't understand half of it, she was able to explain it in such a way that I felt like I was not a complete dunce. Things were going well, but the all-but-imminent arrival of her baby would put a halt on things at least for a little while. But she was pleased with how far she'd gotten already and was content to put it aside for a while. She told me that she'd gotten to a point that she NEEDED to put it down just to be able to pick it up later and see it with clearer eyes.

 

I could understand that completely and as I was telling her as much, the kitchen door opened and a tall, attractive older woman with rich brown hair and a red wool coat stepped inside.

 

“Hello,” Shera and I said together with equal confusion. Shera's face cleared a few seconds before mine did, breaking into an understanding smile about five seconds before Rude crossed the threshold and stomped his boots to get the packed snow off.

 

“Sorry to just show up without a call first,” Rude apologized. “I know you have a full house.”

 

“Actually, it's just the two of us for now.” How I did not stammer in front of this woman who was a vision of perfect hair, flawless olive skin, and high-end clothes I would never know. It was pretty obvious that she had to be Rude's mother and that just added to the miracle of my composure.

 

“Tifa Lockhart I want you to meet my mom, Helena Kostopoulos.” I got the impression that Rude was not the most thrilled person in the room right then, but that his mother very well may have been.

 

“Oh, don't lie to the girl!” Her voice. Pure Costa del Sol drawl and a smile that could have Icicle Village thawed out and basking in heat with no effort at all. I had never felt so backwoods barmaid in my life. “HE,” she rapped her forefinger once on Rude's forehead, “Didn't want me to come at all, but you are so much more important than that silly boy Rufus. Not to mention prettier.”

 

So, thank the gods for Shera. I stood there mute and she saved my backside by cooing over this VISION of a woman's accent for several minutes. I managed to get my act together and shake Mrs. Kostopoulos's hand and be warmed by a smile that made Yuffie's best look like a dim light bulb. No pressure here, right?

 

Rude did look pretty miserable though. His mother was only shorter than him by a fraction of an inch and while I exchanged pleasantries with her, I noticed that it was her contribution that gave him those warm brown eyes. Her's seemed to be more inclined to looking mischievous all the time, though. I also noticed, as she loosened her scarf, that she was wearing an emerald the size of a bird's egg around her neck. Of course, there's never any pressure at all when you meet your boyfriend's mom for the first time, it was just always about ten million degrees in my kitchen.

 

She turned back to Shera and I properly introduced the two of them. Without missing a beat, Mrs. Kostopoulos observed with a grin, “You must be due soon. I remember that time well thought I only did it once. When you move from being so ready to be done to a sense of utter peace, you'll have about three days left.”

 

Rude had moved to stand next to me but at his mother's words he gave her a shocked look and said, “Mom! Really.”

 

Shera just looked like she was going to burst out laughing any minute and I was still a little stunned. But Rude's mother waved a hand at him dismissively and shrugged one narrow, elegant shoulder. “It is true!” She turned to look from Shera to me and gestured wide, both palms up. “When that one was born, the whole world stood still for two years! Nothing of any importance happened until he started eating crayons and washing them down with paste. Then my majestic baby boy was just a noise with dirt on it.”

 

Shera lost it then. Head down on the table, one hand holding her side, she fell apart into gales of laughter. I clapped my hand over my mouth to smother my own sudden onset of giggling and Mrs. Kostopoulos crossed her arms and looked pleased with herself. Rude was mortified.

 

“Just say the word and I will take her away and dump her in a rain barrel,” he offered and I shook my head. She'd heard him offer that and put on the best shocked expression I had ever seen. She had every ounce of animation that her son lacked.

 

“You would never,” she scolded her son. “At least you haven’t yet.” Her eyes danced and Rude shook his head.

 

“I tried to get her to not come. I even stalled leaving in the hopes that she would only inflict herself on Rufus, but...,” Poor Rude.

 

“How could I resist getting to meet the raven-haired beauty who has stolen your heart?” She was teasing him horribly and it was making him blush.

 

As he began to protest again, I cut across his words, offering up drinks and sweet treats. Rude's mother accepted, but shooed Rude out of the room to retrieve everything from the bar. I told him where the cupcakes and cookies were currently hidden and he gave his mother a very stern look before slipping into the bar.

 

The second he was gone, Mrs. Kostopoulos smiled at me. Not the up-to-no-good smile that she'd been using, but a very genuine gentle smile. She reached out a hand and took one of mine, saying calmly in that honey-rich accent of hers, “I thought I'd never get rid of him.” I'm sure I looked like a deer in the headlights, but she spoke sincerely and quickly. “When Rude told me that he was seeing you, I worried because no one doesn't know your name. I worry no more. You make him happy and I can tell that you are not self-serving.”

 

I opened my mouth to ask her what she meant, but I didn't get the chance. As Rude came back through the kitchen door, his Mother flipped my hand over and pretended that she'd been peering at it carefully. “Yes, you see here just like I told you.” She pointed to one of the deep lines across my palm and nodded her perfect head sagely. “A long life, with difficulty behind you.”

 

Rude rolled his eyes and begged, “Mom, please don't start that hokey crap.”

 

I thought that this woman was either completely insane or completely brilliant. As we all ate and drank, I decided on the brilliant assessment. She was doing everything in her power to make Rude twitch and I almost felt sorry for him. What stopped me? It was clear, from her winks and looks at me that she was doing ti for my enjoyment. And I was enjoying hearing about all of his best stunts as a child and teenager. Most I filed away for later use and all of them I laughed about.

 

Eventually I think Rude had had enough and he began to herd his mother out the door reminding her that she'd agreed to see Rufus that day as well. As she leaned to kiss my cheek she waved an airy hand and dismissed Rufus as, “an adorable, idiotic little child so fond of himself that he'd make love to his own face if he could manage it.”

I decided that I not only liked this woman, but that I loved her. I invited her back any time and Rude shook his head frantically behind her back.

 

She tied her scarf back on and bent to kiss Shera's cheek as well before straightening up and tapping Rude's forehead again. “I'll wait outside so you can kiss the girl properly.” She wiggled her long fingers in a parting wave and slipped out the door.

 

Shera piped up right then with a mirth-filled, “And I'll just head to the little girls' room so that oyou are left in privacy.” She snickered all the way out of the kitchen.

 

“I am SO sorry, Tifa,” Rude began but I was already laughing.

 

“Is she like this with everyone? Because she is CHARMING!” Rude looked at me like I'd grown scales and shook his head again.

 

“No. She's worse with Rufus. But here,” he took my face in his hands and tilted my chin up. “Let's not disappoint her since I'm SURE she's watching through the window.”

 

I fought the habit of resting my hand on his throat, thinking that might be a bit much for his mom to see and interpret, opting for the lesser gesture of tracing a line over his Adam's apple with my thumb. It produced a satisfying rumble from Rude who caught a handful of my hair and gave it a sharp tug before cutting right to the chase and crushing his mouth over mine, his tongue lacing around mine possessively.

 

So much for protecting any sensibilities his mother might have had! And his smacking my backside before he strode out the door like the king of the world probably didn't help either.

 

Shera and I laughed for the rest of the day about how over-the-top Mrs. Kostopoulos was compared to her son. When everyone returned that night, Yuffie was so disappointed to have missed the person that Shera called, 'an older, less clumsy version of Yuffie.' To everyone's surprise, Cid had actually met her and found her to be both a hard-headed businesswoman and an excellent drinking buddy. Cid also solved the small mystery of her money – she owned nearly every hotel in Costa del Sol.

 

No wonder she was content to call Rufus names and be a handful in his presence. Her money was not ShinRa money. I liked her more and more by the minute and no matter what Rude felt about it I hoped that she would stop by sometime. I was anxious to get to know her better.


	34. Yuffie - 34

“I feel like I'm breaking in to a place,” I tried so hard to keep the excitement out of my voice. I mean, we were so not breaking in to WRO headquarters. Reeve and I both had keys to everything, so it was just the lateness of the hour that had me feeling like I was breaking the law.

 

And the night watch guy greeted us warmly, so that broke the spell of sham breaking and entering.

 

“So,” Reeve began as we all loaded into the elevator and Peter hit the button for the executive level. “That makes five, right? The two on F3, and one each on F6 and F7.”

 

“What about the conference room on F5? Nobody ever uses it because it is too small for a conference room,” Peter chimed in.

 

“There's a conference room on F5?” Reeve asked, confused.

 

“There's no conference room on my floor,” I said. And there wasn't. At least not that I was aware of.

 

“Yeah, there is. It's new – SOMEBODY blew a hole in a wall,” Peter gave Vincent a pointed look, “And they just took out the wall. Nice view if I recall.”

 

“I was probably backed into a corner and didn't have a choice,” was Vincent’s reply to Peter's accusatory look.

 

Peter grinned and chuckled, “I should hope so. I'd hate to think that you'd shoot out walls for your own amusement.”

 

Vincent shook his head and the shadow of a smile tugged at the edges of his mouth. The elevator dinged at the top floor and we all got out. A few paces away from the elevator door a pair of security panels framed a door.

 

“Shit,” Peter patted his pockets and frowned. “I left my keys at home. I didn't think we'd be coming here tonight.” He turned to me and gave me his best grin. “Can I use yours?”

 

“Absolutely not. My keys do not get loaned for a second.” I gave him a shove out of the way and dug around on my ring of WRO keys. I never used the one for Reeve's office because he always let me in. What good is a key when the door is propped open?

 

I stuck the key in the little bolt-like lock and put my right hand flat on the sensor next to it. Reeve counted backwards from three and we turned the keys at the same time. A green beam of light scanned both of our hand-prints and the door snicked open.

 

“Really?” Vincent asked gesturing to the elaborate security system.

 

“After hours,” Reeve and I said in tandem. “PSYCHE!” Again with the talking at the same time.

 

Vincent shook his head and Peter said, “You two are twelve.”

 

“Fourteen, thanks,” Reeve defended as he entered the combination on his office safe. He took out a box and opened it. “What's the door number of F5?”

 

Peter answered, “Either 65 or 67. We didn't have to change either lock. Vincent wasn't bored when he went through.”

 

Vincent just shrugged and Reeve handed him a stack of key cards. A neat pile of papers on his desk caught Reeve's eye and he glanced through them. When he got to the last page, he uttered a curse under his breath.

 

“I'm sorry. I have to deal with this,” He tapped a finger on the stack of papers and frowned. “I have to print a novel's worth of reports for a meeting tomorrow morning and if I don't babysit the printer it feels unloved and spits out garbled, chewed up nonsense.”

 

“You really should fix that, you know,” I scolded Reeve. I knew there was nothing wrong with that printer and I also knew that those papers on the desk were from me and had nothing to do with reports for the next day. They were expense sheets detailing the last year and a half of Pizza Tuesdays he and I had enjoyed in this office. He made me expense them out since too much of that came out of his office already.

 

Hey, it qualified as a working lunch as we did talk about work for at least ten minutes before we fell to keeping up with each other's personal lives.

 

But yeah. There was nothing wrong with the printer and I told Vincent as much as we headed down the stairs to F7.

 

“Then why...,” Vicnent trailed off when I quirked an eyebrow at him.

 

“That desk in his office has seen more action than a prostitute in Wall Market.” I rolled my eyes.

 

Vincent shrugged a shoulder as I slid the key card for the first office and grinned, “I'd say that's not a bad use of time, but I can't see a desk as a very comfortable place to be for long.”

 

I clicked on the light in the room and Vincent looked around briefly before turning it right back off again. I thought that was a pretty quick way to assess a place, but shrugged and stuck the key card into the back pocket of my pants while I turned to open the door.

 

Vincent's hand caught my arm and pulled me a couple of steps further into the room. “Hang on. I'm not done.” His grin the the half-light coming through the office windows could have been called predatory but I did not really have enough reaction time to be applying descriptive terms to anything before he'd scooped me up and sat me on the edge of the desk.

 

I may or may not have managed some surprised sound. If I did I'm sure it was something along the lines of, “Eep!” before Vincent had his hands on the back of my knees, tugging me forward until I was pressed against him. One arm around my back and his clawed thumb pushing my chin up, he dipped his head and pressed a heated kiss to my lips.

 

I snaked both of my arms up to wrap around his neck to try to pull him closer. This was made very, very difficult by the fact that as quickly as he'd gotten me into this position, he stopped kissing me and ducked out of my arms, heading for the door shaking his head and saying, “No, too low.”

 

“Hold it, mister!” I protested, maybe a little too loudly. “You can't just DO that and walk away like, MEH NO BIG!”

 

He opened the door and the light from the hall washed over his face and the upturned corner of his mouth. “Coming? I assume we don't have all night here.” He swept an arm out the door and I hopped off the desk, meaning to saunter by him and glare. I manged to do both, but it lost it's effect after I yelped at his pinching my butt as I passed.

 

The door slid shut on its own and I whirled on him demanding, “What on earth are you doing?”

 

I quirked an eyebrow at me and said, “Trying to find a _suitable_ office. Where to next?”

 

I wish I could say that I was exasperated, but the emphasis he put on the word SUITABLE was just way too suggestive. “F6, one floor down and across the catwalk. Race ya!” And I took off at a run, hitting the door about three seconds before he did. I slid the key card and tumbled into the office, giggling.

 

Vincent didn't even make a pretense of looking around this room. He just pressed me back, his mouth hot on mine and his hands pushing my shirt up and over my breasts. As if the sprint down the stairs and to the door was not enough to make me breathless, he backed me into he desk, forcing me to brace myself with one hand. With a wicked grin, he moved his head to swirl his tongue around one of my nipples before taking it between his teeth and tugging gently.

 

“Oh dear god,” I gasped as he repeated the action on the other nipple and I ruined his braid tangling my free hand in his hair.

 

Vincent tugged my shirt back down as he straightened up, untangling my hand as his head left the range of my arm. “No, still no good.” And with that, he was walking out the door, taking the band out of his braid and shaking his hair loose.

 

“Oh, it is ON now, Vincent Valentine.” I joined him in the hall and tossed him one of the keycards. “You know the next room numbers. First one there picks their poison!”

 

He shrugged and took off for the stairs at a run, but I had one advantage this time. I knew the lay of this building. I didn't mess with the stairs at all, opting to swing over the balcony railing and land almost directly in front of door 65. I crossed the hall in a single leap and gave Vincent a wave before slipping into the offices-turned-conference room.

 

Peter was right. It was too small to be a conference room, but it was too big to be an office.

 

I heard the door swish open and Vincent sauntered in looking amused. “Fine, cheat your way to victory.”

 

I turned to face him and ran an absent, toying finger down the center of his chest. “Knowledge is power, Vince. Remember that and you might just win next time.” I grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him down to me, pausing a second to grin into his mouth before crushing it to mine. Slipping my tongue between his willing lips was effortless for me. Almost as effortless as getting me out of my pants was for him.

 

Yet again, I found myself backed into the only flat surface in the room. Vincent's hands dove into my panties, shoving them down over my hips as he picked me up and sat me on the edge of the table.

 

Putting the bare minimum of space between the two of us he smiled and, breathing hard, said, “Oh, yes. This will do nicely.” I shook my panties off my legs and he was between them and owning my mouth again before a racing heartbeat had passed.

 

I rolled my hips against the front of his jeans and reached for his belt before I thought better of it. I grabbed a handful of his hair and tugged gently, breaking off another want-soaked kiss. “I won.”

 

“So you did,” he breathed against my mouth and nose. “What do you want me to do?” He rocked his hips forward, scraping belt-leather and denim against my very sensitive femininity.

 

“Make me scream.” I captured his bottom lip between mine and sucked on it for a second before releasing it.

 

He growled low in the back of his throat and sank to his knees, giving me a long hungry look while he hooked his left arm under my thigh. Gold-tipped fingers stroked carefully over the top of my thigh and rested, his index finger tracing small circles on my tender skin of my inner leg.

 

I rocked back and caught myself on my hands when his tongue flicked out and connected with my skin. Vincent teased, tracing some random shape with his tongue, then stopping to draw my clit into his mouth, scraping his teeth over that crazy-sensitive bundle of nerves before starting to do it all over again. And in response, I made the most ungodly noises.

 

“Please, PLEASE Vincent!” I didn't think I even sounded like a person any more but I didn't care. “Quit messing with rune magic and finish this.” My stomach muscles rolled and my thighs burned with tension.

 

His laugh was cool on my over-heated sex. I tried to arch my hips toward his retreating mouth, but his arm around my leg held me in place. “It's not magic, Yuffie.” He ducked his head to kiss me right below my navel and I strained against his restraining arm again, groaning and reaching for his head.

 

“Vincent,” I begged, panting then licked my dry lips.

 

He nodded once, “Exactly.” He trailed his right hand over my knee, shifting it to graze over my inner thigh with the back of his hand. He tongue flicked over his upturned lips, clearly pleased to hear my desperate whimper when his fingers slid inside me. “Just signing my name.”

 

I tried to pay attention to see if that's what he was really doing. A light V traced followed by the friction of his fingers pulling, then pushing.

 

Firmer with the capital I, then the gentle scrape of his teeth, and a gasp from me as her split his fingers inside me and stroked again.

 

I expected that the N would be the end of this for me, but his sucking was too gentle and only made me try with more success this time to lift my hips off the table.

 

With my clit still gently between his lips, the C was all internal. I started to moan and could not stop.

 

I wondered if the E was a capital or a lowercase but it was a minor point that I didn't dwell on due to his emphatic gesturing for me to come a little closer.

 

Definitely a lowercase N this time coupled with the prick of gold claw points into my thigh. I fell off a cliff to answer his frantic, non-verbal requests for me to 'get over here.'

 

He crossed his T with a flourish that I would have criticized had I not been repeating his name at a volume that caused my voice to echo around the room.

 

With my muscles still tense and shaking, Vincent stood up and gathered me into his arms, nuzzling my neck while I caught my breath.

 

As I relaxed, my head on his shoulder I giggled a little. “I wonder what's going to happen in the rooms we haven’t made it to yet?”

 

He shrugged, kissing my jaw and cheek before settling his mouth on mine again. I laced my fingers through his hair, smoothing it over his back. He pulled back and shook his head. “Don't know. But somebody else is going to have to do it. I really like this table.”

 

I raised an questioning eyebrow at him and he kissed me again, his thumb stroking down my cheek. “What? You think I enjoy having to bend double to kiss you all the time?”

 

“It hasn't stopped you yet,” I countered, winding my tongue around his and reaching for his belt.

 

He hummed and swatted my hands away, “Elevator.” I heard the tell-tale ding muffled by the doors and tried to ignore it, reaching for him again. “Later. Unless you just WANT Reeve seeing you naked from the waist down. In which case, we need to talk.”

 

I sighed and pushed him out of the way, grabbing my underwear and pulling them back on while hunting for my pants. I found them and my shoes (when did I lose those?) and said to him, “It's not like he's never seen it before.” I hopped back into my pants and sat down on the floor to untie and put my shoes back on.

 

One eyebrow slid up Vincent's forehead in the highest arc I'd seen since I met him. It was satisfying, really. “Care to explain?”

 

I grinned at him from the floor and teased, “Are you jealous?”

 

He answered almost before I was done, pink staining his cheeks. “Very likely.”

 

I giggled and gave in. I had no desire to torture him and I could hear Reeve and Peter laughing as they came down the hall. “He came barging in to my room at Seventh Heaven in a panic about something. He didn't listen when Tifa told him to give me few minutes 'cause I'd just gotten out of the shower. It was funny, really.” I smiled at the memory. “He was HORRIFIED and I played it well. Pretended to be hurt that he wasn't falling at my feet worshiping my glorious tits!” I crossed my legs and rocked backwards, laughing.

 

Vincent rolled his eyes and adjusted his pants causing me to laugh harder. “He definitely doesn't need to see YOU naked from the waist down. He'd pass out from sheer WONDER!”

 

“God, Yuffie,” was all he managed to get out before the door slid open and Reeve and Peter walked in.

 

“See?” Peter said. “I told you knocking wasn't necessary. She's having gigglefits on the floor and he's just leaning there rolling his eyes and looking pained.”

 

Vincent had moved to stand in front of the unmistakable smear I had left on the gleaming tabletop. He was rolling his eyes and looking pained but for vastly different reasons than Peter thought. Reeve, however was not so easily fooled I think.

 

“This room will work best I think. Could I get a desk to go with the table, though?” Ever the professional. At covering his tracks and changing the subject.

 

Reeve extended a hand to me and helped me up off the floor while he and Vincent discussed the details of what Vincent wanted in his new office. I pretended to pay attention and entertained very happy thoughts of two things.

 

One, Vincent had a jealous streak over me! It was wonderful to know that he loved me, but there was something flattering about that jealous streak.

 

And two, LATER.


	35. Vincent - 35

So close. So very, very close.

 

With claw tangled in her hair and my right hand clutching at the sweat slick skin of her back, she arched, every muscle in her constricting and causing her to freeze with her forehead pressed to mine, her eyes half-shut, and her mouth open in a silent cry. As she began to relax, she regained the ability to breathe and a series of ragged, dry breaths escaped her throat in lock-step rhythm to my final upward thrusts. Her name tore from my lips in a plea that she was answering before it was even made. Her long, thin arms wrapped tightly around my neck and body and she crushed her mouth against mine, fevered tongues as desperate for each other in that moment as their possessors.

 

Our heart rates beginning to return to less aerobic levels, Yuffie dropped her head to my shoulder, fitting her chin in my collarbone while she nuzzled my neck. I wrapped both of my arms around her and held her as close to my body as I could without drawing complaint from her. She never stayed like this long enough to suit me, but that day she started wiggling away almost immediately.

 

“Vincent,” she sighed into my neck as she shifted her hips, ending the physical connection between our bodies. She groaned, low and short, shifting again. “Vincent, my leg is numb.”

 

Ah, reality. There was no escape from it and she was going to keep twitching in my arms until I let her go. Which was the exact opposite of what I wanted to do right then, so a compromise had to be reached.

 

Giving her one last squeeze, I tucked both of my hands under her backside and lifted her slightly, twisting to my left and laying her down. She giggled when I traced one finger up her side before dropping down beside her and pulling her back to me. She stretched in my arms, a sound that started as a sigh ending in a groan of pain at the pins and needles feeling in her leg.

 

This wasn't the first time this had happened and would not be the last. She shifted, grimacing as she rotated her ankle and got a series of sick popping sounds for her trouble. She whimpered and reached down to rub her thigh while I frowned.

 

“Maybe I should reconsider....”

 

“You are NOT going to reconsider anything.” She cut me off with a huff, continuing to try to rub the sharp pains out of her leg. “It's only fair that whoever makes the first move gets to pick the place and position. It's not like I'll die from a numb leg or two!” She giggled a little and wrapped her arm around me, bringing her other hand up to touch my face. “Besides, there's bound to be hazards to MY choices too.”

 

“Namely that I never know what you'll choose. I still have a bruises from the counter top.” I bundled her close to my chest and she tried to laugh but was interrupted by a yawn. The result was a completely inhuman noise.

 

I kissed her forehead and asked, “Tired already?”

 

She hummed and shivered. I felt around for the covers and pulled them over both of us while she answered, “Yeah. 'Syour fault, too. Waking me up too early.”

 

“I apologized for that already,” I reminded her. She was starting to go limp, relaxing into my arms. “You could have gone back to sleep.”

 

She made a negative noise and shook her head. “With you lookin' all bed-headed and hot? As if.”

 

I laughed and she sighed. She snugged the top of her head under my chin, curling around me, her hand snaking up to grip my shoulder. When I didn't respond to her speech, she sighed again and was asleep in her usual way – suddenly.

 

I was not tired in the least but I also had no desire to try to slip away from her. I had a good view of the clock beside the bed and making sure that she did not oversleep was my unspoken job at all times. That day, punctuality was particularly important.

 

The night before when I had asked her what time she needed to get up in order to be on time for Reeve's wedding, she had answered with her mouth full of sticky dumplings. Six sounded like five and hence, at five in the morning, I was waking her up.

 

I was thankful that she had said six so as to have plenty of time to have her way with me first thing before we had to get ready to leave. Had I understood her properly, I'm not sure we would have made it to the ceremony on time.

 

It had not been that long ago that we had all been at Cid and Shera's wedding. Both weddings had their beauty – Cid and Shera exchanged the traditional vows in a traditional venue, Reeve and Peter chose their backyard and a ceremony that was more tailored to suit them.

 

Yuffie had stars in her eyes as she declared the ice-covered back garden to be 'just like a fairy tale!' That had drawn a smile from me. Her dislike of fairy tales was legend among our friends and I got to hear about how silly the stories were on a weekly basis. Nanaki, who had overheard her comparison, gave her a very hard time about it. She, in turn had given him a sound lecture about how just because the plots were bad did not mean that the imagery wasn't nice.

 

As Nanaki retreated, chuckling and calling her 'Princess' just to get under her skin, he shot me an I-told-you-so look. I had known, when I'd realized that my immortality was gone, that it was not only my life that had been altered. But the one life that I had been concerned for more than my own was Nanaki's. So long lived are his race, and so rare too, that my heart broke over my not being able to keep the promise that I'd made to him in the Forgotten City a few years before.

 

During the course of the week, he and I had made the time to discuss this change. He was sad, but at the same time pleased for me telling me that had he known all it would take was a sip of the Great Gospel, he would have made me a cocktail of it himself. I wondered at his attitude and he simply shrugged, telling me that upon serious reflection he had come to realize that even when everyone he loved now was gone, there would always be some job that would need to be done or something that needed study and understanding.

 

At the wedding that morning, I wondered if perhaps Shelke was helping to offer him a more sanguine view of his future. She had arrived and the two greeted each other as the closest of comrades – Shelke creeping up behind to squeeze the fire-dog in a crushing hug and Nanaki laughing, asking if it was really necessary as they had just seen each other the afternoon before. I was glad that both had agreeable, unending company.

 

Shelke, so long as there was still refined mako left in in the world, would continue to live. From what I understood, Reeve had teams collecting it from all of the now-abandoned reactors. Shelke did not need huge amounts of it and the dregs pulled from reactor vats had the potential to keep her alive for hundreds of years to come if she chose.

 

Having not been given a choice in the matter when it had been my own fate, I could not understand why she would want such a thing, but as Yuffie had reminded me, it was her life. Maybe there were mysteries enough to keep her occupied that long.

 

After the nuptials and coffee, we had all gone our separate ways. The ladies of the party had agreed to meet at Seventh Heaven for junk food and hair-dos at four, but everyone had things that needed to get done before then. Lunch dates, final trips to the cleaners, naps, and at least one trip to the arcade were on the schedule for the members of our party.

 

After collecting my shirts from the cleaners and a gallon of milk from the grocery, Yuffie and I had returned home for lunch. She had wanted a nap but I had different ideas and ultimately we both got what we wanted. Sometimes life is fair that way.

 

I kept my mind occupied with various things until it was a quarter past three. I woke Yuffie then and after a few minutes of insisting that the planet was getting angry about the way we wasted water, she had us both standing in the shower together and I got the job of washing her hair.

 

While she talked to me from the closet where she was raiding my supply of button-up shirts, I threw on a pair of pants and pulled an oblong white box out of my bed-side table drawer. Yuffie rounded the corner into the bedroom, still talking about how she'd be home for dinner and that she’d deal with my hair later on. When she caught sight of the box in my hand, she stopped.

 

“What's that?” She sounded very suspicious. She'd held me to the 'no presents' rule through Christmas and I was honestly fine with that. She was hard to buy for anyway.

 

“It's a gift. For you.” I tried to hand the box to her but she backed up a half step.

 

“Oh no! I told you no presents. That means ever, for anything!” She waved her hands in front of her and shook her head.

 

But I was prepared. “Fine. Then consider them on loan. I'll want them returned eventually.” That caught her curiosity and she took the box from me.

 

She held it at arms length to open it, but when it did not explode she peered inside. “Ohh,” she breathed and she touched one of the two tiny jade butterflies that decorated the hair barrettes in the box. “Where did you find these?”

 

I gave myself a mental pat on the back for a job well done before I answered, “An antiques shop. They were in the window and I thought you might like them.”

 

She narrowed her eyes at me before grinning and teasing, “It's sweet of you to buy something for yourself because you think I'll like it. Are you sure you don't want to wear them tonight?”

 

“No, thanks. The green will look better with your dress,” I teased back. “But later this week we'll go to dinner and I'll want them back.”

 

She giggled and closed the distance between us. She reached up and put her arms around my neck, leveraging herself up to wrap her legs around my waist. I groaned, reminding her that I was not a tree and she planted a kiss on my lips to shut me up.

 

“Quit complaining,” she scolded, breaking off the kiss long enough to stick out her tongue. “Your hands on my butt say you don't mind this at all.”

 

I gave her backside a squeeze and kissed her again. “The clock on the table says that you are late for your sugar high and hair dryers.”

 

With a mumbled curse and a frown she dropped to the floor and made for the fireman's pole, sliding down and calling her goodbye from the front door. I shook my head, laughing and completely unrepentant that I'd helped delay her.

 

I grabbed a hairband from the box of them in the bathroom and piled my hair up in an untidy mass at the back of my head. Yuffie would braid it again when she got back, but it was damp and annoying just then. I pulled all of the various pieces of formal attire out of the closet and checked over them all, making sure that all the pieces were there and ready to be worn.

 

I thought that Yuffie would be back in about two hours or so, so I sat the alarm on my phone and went downstairs to move papers around and pretend that I knew what was going on with the most recent project Reeve had given me. I was beginning to think that I was going to need Yuffie's help to completely understand what everything meant because there were just too many holes in the information that I had. But I gave it another try and was no closer to comprehension when my phone chimed at me than I had been before.

 

Yuffie would be thrilled. She'd gotten the maps and several filing cabinets worth of documents out of the house earlier in the week, but I had brought more in. She had been very vocal in her lecture about me leaving work at work. If I had to have her help, then I would have to get it at the office. Nothing that landed on her desk could leave the building.

 

Abandoning aggravation for the kitchen, I sat about making dinner. She was going to have to have something that would counteract whatever sugary treats she managed to put away at the bar, so protein was the order of the evening. She bounced in not long after I finished cooking, her hair clipped back from her face and curled just a bit at the ends. It was quite fetching and she preened when I told her so.

 

While she cleaned up, I cut the band out of my tangled hair and wet it again. It was beginning to get foolishly long and no matter what Yuffie said, I was going to be forced to cut at least some of it off soon. I couldn't even get a comb through one knot and I had to leave it for Yuffie to deal with. She'd have a better angle on it anyway.

 

Somehow, she managed to get that mass of hair untangled and braided neatly in about ten minutes. While she worked, she told me that she thought Shera was only a few days from delivery. This was slightly alarming to me for many reasons and I voiced them to her.

 

“You can't possibly know that, Yuffie.”

 

She hummed a bit, “Yeah, I can. I've delivered more than a few babies, you know. End of the world had everyone in Wutai procreating like, well. Like it was the end of the world. Somebody had to catch all those babies!”

 

I was incredulous. “They let you do this? Seriously?” I got whacked with a hairbrush for my disbelief. I was surprised that someone had thought letting 16 year old Yuffie deliver babies was a good idea, but no one had consulted me at the time. “You think Shera is that close? Wouldn’t she need to be, I don't know. Resting or something?”

 

She started to wind and twist away at my hair, smoothing it as she went. “Nah, about twenty four hours or so before, if she's paying attention, something will just tell her to rest. So long as she listens to that, she'll be fine. But I think that before Tuesday, there will be a baby Highwind screaming 'shit!' at his or her father.”

 

I told her that I did not think babies talked immediately on entering the world, but she insisted that any child of Cid's already had every possible profane word etched into it's DNA and would never cry, just curse until it's diaper was changed. I had to wipe tears of laughter from my eyes at that idea and that got her laughing to the point of giving herself the hiccups.

 

I left her to find her cure on her own while I started to get dressed. The car from the WRO fleet would be arriving in less than an hour so we both needed to get a move on. Yuffie hunted me down to zip her into her dress and found me frowning at my tie in the bathroom mirror.

 

She shook her head in wonder and turned around, “Help? And why are you even bothering with that thing? It's not like anybody is going to see it under your military-looking jacket thing.”

 

I gave my tie one last tug and just like magic, it fell into place. I turned to her then, grasping the pull of her zipper and sliding it up. I ignored her question in light of the three very obvious scratches down her back. I halted in my action of zipping her dress and reached into the medicine cabinet for the potion I kept in the event of shaving emergencies.

 

She twisted around to see what I was doing and giggled, “Oops. Can't have those showing with cameras everywhere. Incidentally, are we going in the front doors or the back?”

 

I dabbed some of the potion on her back and answered, “I still haven’t decided. Are you sure you don't want to decide for me?”

 

“Nuh-uh!” She shook her head as I finished zipping her dress. She turned and kissed my jaw before she flitted out of the bathroom calling back over her shoulder, “You are the superstar, babe. The gate dragon at the office doesn't even know what I do every day.”

 

I rolled my eyes, but she had a point. I was the 'superstar'. I was also the shy one, the intensely private one. My own choice would be to go in the back way and avoid every camera on the place. But Barret and Nanaki had ganged up on me to point out that I'd defeated Omega, turned back up, and hadn’t been seen since. There were rumors, speculation. One good public appearance would sate the public's hunger. Or so they said.

 

Then there was Yuffie. I shrugged into my vest and buttoned it, wondering what she would like. She was being completely uncommunicative about her preference and that unnerved me. Usually, she would have told me right off the bat what she wanted, but the best I cold get out of her on this subject was, 'Whatever makes you the most comfortable, I'm fine with.'

 

She might enjoy the attention, but as she was prone to reminding me, no one knew who she was. Chances were, with her identity and position within the WRO a closely held secret, there would not be anyone there who knew her beyond her name. And maybe her connection to Godo Kisaragi of Wutai.

 

I walked around the corner into our bedroom and I didn't have to think about it any more. She was leaning over the dresser, looking in the mirror, and applying lip gloss. The dark green dress I'd zipped her into a few minutes before was transformed by the addition of a white under-skirt that was all ruffles and fullness. On anyone else, I doubted that it would have qualified as formal at all but somehow, even with her green socks pulled up to just over her knees and her white, knee-high boots, she managed to make it work. It would have been a shame to deny the world the view of her looking so beautiful.

 

“Oohh. Looking good,” she purred at me through the mirror. “Remind me to make up more occasions to get you all cleaned up!”

 

“We are going in the front door,” was the only answer I had for her as I pulled on my coat. She smiled and crossed the room in a couple of bouncy steps.

 

“Are you sure?” She took it on herself to button my coat for me and I let her, nodding the affirmative. She stepped back and surveyed me again, this time frowning. “You need something else. A touch of color so you don't look like you're going to a funeral.”

 

She walked back to the closet and I heard her rummaging around. “Yuffie, we don't really have time for this.”

 

“Go on down and get your holster on. And take Cerberus! She's prettier than the others,” she scolded. I headed down the stairs, not bothering to argue the pronoun with her. She insisted that Cerberus was female no matter what I said about traditional pronoun usage and firearms.

 

She swept into my office, a spinning blur of red, just as I was turning to go dig her out of the closet. “What is that?”

 

What it was was a short half-cape that she had ordered made for this occasion when she'd discovered that I was planning to walk out of the house in solid black. As she arranged it over my left shoulder, she revisited all the ground about my going around looking like a vampire that she'd gone over since she was 16 years old.

 

“There,” she said, stepping back and looking pleased with her work. “Now, go look and tell me what you think.”

 

I obliged her and headed into the hall to use the mirror over the hall table. The effect was not bad and it was not nearly as cliché as I thought it would be. On closer inspection, I noticed the pin that she had used to hold the fabric in place on the front of my shoulder looked very, very familiar.

 

“It's your dirge,” she said from the door of the office. “A crew found it a couple of weeks ago as they were going through old Midgar. It landed on my desk and I... did what I do best.” She flashed me a grin and I had to laugh.

 

“Stole it and had it altered?” I looked closely at the pendant of the three-headed dog. It looked like it had been in pieces and had been fixed with the goal of leaving the scars from it's breaking.

 

She hummed a positive answer and reached for the small white coat that would be her protection from the cold that night. Before she could get to it, I caught her by the waist and lifted her to stand on an empty ammo crate.

 

She leaned close to me, putting both of her hands on my face. “We really needed to stop leaving things piled in the front hall. It's dangerous.”

 

“I know,” I whispered into her lips before they claimed mine. If she were a drug, then I would gladly be addicted.


	36. Reno - 36

I had visuals on every person under the weird pergola thing at the entrance of the WRO headquarters. Tuesti had finally gotten hitched and they were all here to celebrate in a big way. Most people had come to terms with Rufus ShinRa being a major money-man for the organization, just so long as he stayed there and didn't try to run anything himself.

 

There were plenty of checks in place to make sure he didn't too. There was no way that ShinRa would rise again, now. I didn't get it, but Rufus did not seem to give two shits.

 

It was kind of depressing in some ways, the sedate life. More paperwork, less mayhem. Ho hum.

 

But at least that night I got to get in some decent people watching. Elena was somewhere on the ground, winding through the mass of photographers. Rude was inside already, conversing with security. Tseng would be going in with Rufus, like a shadow with a gun.

 

Once Rufus cleared the doors, I could relax and enjoy the circus for a while. More of the elite and important came through, doing the whole 'greet the media' spiel. They had some sort of controlled release so that the assembled rabid fans could get decent pictures and maybe, if they were very lucky, a quote from someone who probably didn't want to be quoted.

 

Then the hero everyone had been gagging to get news of waltzed in. Or out. Whatever. He didn't matter at all to me, but the vibrant cutie at his side stole my attention the same way she'd been doing for what felt like forever. It'd been probably three years, maybe more, since that time in Wutai when she and Elena were fool enough to fall into that freak Don Corneo's mitts.

 

She'd been so fiery, smart-mouthed and loud as hell, screaming the mountains down. Every time I saw her after that, she handed me my ass on a platter. She was a whirlwind, a grinning ball of give-em-hell. She was irresistible.

 

She'd yelled at me to get off my mangy ass and help evacuate Midgar and it was her's, not Tseng's orders, that I did it. Sweet sixteen and screaming orders at men three times her age like they were nothing but awful kids. She was a force of nature.

 

Then, I hadn’t seen or heard anything about her for two years. I honestly didn't think much about her. I mean, come on. She was a KID and I had NEEDS.

 

Then, that whole shit went down with the Remnants and Jenova's head. It had been a good idea, but it didn't work. Strife had to blaze in and save us all again as if he really wanted to. But my girl had shown up. All grown up now and finer than ever. And she stuck around in Edge afterwards. Like a gift from Gaia.

 

I started hanging around Seventh Heaven, and she was a warmer welcome than Tifa'd ever been. Yeah, she kicked me out on my ass a few times and called me a complete dick more than once, but hey. She noticed that I was there.

 

I'd asked her to go club crawling a couple of times before she agreed. Tifa'd hit the roof, but my girl had figured out that I was pretty harmless so she came along. It was a blast! She's got moves that would blow anybody's mind! All that energy and bounce! It was the best night of my life. I'd invited her back to my place afterward, but she turned me down all casual. Said she had to be at work or whatever and Tifa'd shit if she stayed gone with me too long.

 

The next time we went out, the clubs were dead, dead, dead. So I tried again, offering up a movie and pizza. She accepted with a clap of her hands and off we went. I let her pick the movie and could not have asked for better – a horror flick. Chicks always freak out at horror flicks. Freaking out might lead to cuddling which was easy enough to move on from.

 

But she hadn't flipped her shit at all. She was bored. So bored, she fell asleep on the couch. She looked like a sweet little kid when she was sleeping, all rolled up and I'm not a dirty old man. I'm also not stupid enough to mess with a sleeping girl, not even one as hot as her.

 

So on it went. For a few weeks, I'd ask her out to wherever and find a way to eventually get her back to that swanky apartment I'd snagged on the cheap. But the fine young thing wasn't having any of me. I used all of my best lines on her and she just laughed, slapped me in the arm, and drank my beer.

 

The first time she flitted off to Kalm, I figured it was just wanderlust that took her. She was back pretty soon and had a serious boost in the level of smart-assed commentary and my lust for her hit the roof. But she'd do that, hang around for a while, then run off to Kalm. When I'd asked Tifa what was up with that, she'd just told me that my girl had headed off to see old Valentine.

 

Well, I wasn't going to grudge her that. Man's a legend among Turks. But he's sour company and I never wanted to be around him for long. I just couldn't get past the whole 'coffin for decades' part. Creepy.

 

But off she would flit, every month or so. He'd get tired of her and send her home and I'd be right there, waiting for her to get back and maybe this time quit being such a little tease.

 

One night, I took her to the club as usual and we'd stayed for a while. But she wasn't really feeling it so we went back to my place. She hadn't been home long and was sort of, I dunno. Colorless somehow. Usually she came back brassier but not this time. I felt bad for her and I'd asked her if she was sick and she'd said no. I suggested everything under the sun – from fighting to fucking – and she'd turned them all down. So we settled into a pile of pillows in my room and watched a movie, but she was still off.

 

Finally in a fit of exasperation at 3 in the morning, I asked her if she wanted a hug. Naturally, she'd agree to THAT. So I hugged her. Not for very long, just a decent squeeze, like something Elena would demand from me. But when she let go of me and said thanks, smiling like I'd actually made her feel better I kissed her.

 

Don't get me wrong. I'd wanted to do more than that with her for a LONG time. But all I did was kiss her. It was weird too. My usual style got thrown out the window and I kissed her slow and gentle. I didn't even try to slip her any tongue. I wondered what she'd done to me to bring that on, but wondering that got cut short when her being so close gave me a raging boner.

 

She laughed. She laughed until she was crying. “GAWD Reno! It was just a kiss! Are you twelve?” Rolled up in a ball of giggles and tears and the only thing I could do (other than argue with her, which only made her laugh harder) was go take a cold shower.

 

Which didn't help either. She'd been all bundled up in blankets and was so warm and her mouth was so soft. She'd kissed back too! That smokin' body of hers molded against mine and her fists full of the front of my shirt. The fantasies I'd had about those hands. But it was my hand that had to do something about the hard-on I'd gotten.

 

When I'd finally managed to get myself pulled together enough to actually LOOK at her again, she'd fallen asleep in my bed. Just rolled up in a little ball over by the wall looking like a little kid with a smile on her face. I threw the covers over her and piled my pillows back up before sliding in right next to her. Things might not have gone how I'd wanted them to, but I wasn't about to pass up a little while longer with my arms around her neat little waist.

 

The next morning, I woke up and she was gone. After that, I didn't see her for a while. Tifa'd said she was busy with work but I didn’t know. I wondered if I'd scared her off, but she'd LAUGHED, so I didn't really think I had.

 

Then, she'd disappeared off to Valentine’s for nearly a month, only to come back just as the Deepground shit hit the fan. The first few days after bat-boy had saved is all, I'd gone to the bar to see Yuffie and she'd made it really clear that I was not who she wanted. I walked away, pretty sure that she'd be on the phone with me before long sobbing about how the old guy was dead or whatever. Rude kept me posted on stuff as it happened.

 

Only he left out the part where he'd been mackin' on the barmaid. Slick bastard. Ah well, he's cool. And if he's happy then I'm happy for him. Bros gotta do that thing, right?

 

I was thrown for a loop when the old caper actually turned up about a day late for his own party. It did not take long for word to get around that he'd gone for my girl. And she'd fallen like a ton of bricks. I won't lie, that hurt. I'd actually thought I'd had a chance with her. After all, Valentine's like 80 or something, right? What would he want with a kid like her?

 

Well, that was a stupid question. He'd want the same thing with a _woman_ like her as I'd wanted. I'd been trying too, so hard. I hadn't gone off chasing anybody for a good six months before Deepground and I honestly thought that she'd be a little interested after that kiss. I'm kick ass at kissing. I guess that wasn't enough.

 

Well, I was hurt so I stopped going to Seventh Heaven. Then I got mad of course. Then I got over it, but I still never went back to the bar. Rude went by himself and ended up dating Tifa but that kinda hurt too. He'd won and I'd lost. Still happy for my bro, but it didn't feel fair somehow.

 

Still, it's not in my nature to mope for long. I heard about her getting hurt then moving out of the bar and it didn't take much for me to realize that she was living with Valentine. So that kind of made it sting all over again because come on. A couple of weeks in and living together?

 

So everything had rocked along. She sent me a whole bunch of texts asking if I wanted to go to the club or something and I never replied. She'd picked him over me and I wasn't going to take her out. If she wanted to go, let him take her.

 

But that night, standing in the flash of the cameras with her pinky finger linked with his I got mad again. Fine, call it jealousy because that's what it really was I guess. But I saw red just the same. What'd he have that I didn't, anyway? He was older, sure and I get that some chicks dig that but he's ANCIENT. There's got to be a limit there. I was faster, I could keep up with her energy and fire. He was just, I dunno. Sedate. Boring. He barely smiled for fuck's sake.

 

I watched as they went on across the path, stopping at all the spots that were marked. He looked uncomfortable, Yuffie looked radiant. Near the stairs, some idiot or another called out, “Mr. Valentine, show us your best side!”

 

And that sappy old man paused for a second, then took a step away from my girl and made a gesture towards her with that wicked claw of his. She had missed the question and was confused when everyone laughed and flashbulbs went off by the hundreds. He must have explained it to her because she busted into a fit of giggles and gave him a shove.

 

Damnit. I was so jealous of him right then. She'd never had to run off after me, I'd been right in front of her. I'd even told Rufus to shove it while I was trying to get with her. He'd not been happy about it, but I guess he knew I'd fuck it up somehow. Told me to just roll on back when I was ready.

 

I guess that night decided it for me. She was brighter and happier than I'd ever seen her before. I'd been holding out, hoping that one or both of them would get bored fast, but that wasn't happening. I'm no dating expert, but I could tell that pair wasn't going anywhere.

 

She did dance with me a couple of times that night. But she made the rounds pretty well with everyone. Even old Highwind with his wife the size of a house got a turn with my... with Yuffie. I was pretty snippy with her and after the second dance she didn't come to me again. Every other dance belonged to Valentine anyway. Watching her flit back to him, happy as you please, was just too much.

 

So I made friends with the bartender and tried to watch people. It was a packed house so there was plenty to watch. Rufus went through the motions with his date for the evening. She wasn't impressed with him, but she was hiding it well and he wasn't trying hard at all. Elena and Tseng would take turns being the watchdog over Rufus, every now and then taking a few minutes to actually look married.

 

And Rude. It was only a matter of time with him. He spent most of the night walking the floor and scanning the crowd, but the one time he did take Tifa out on the floor to dance, I could see it coming. Give him six months and he'd be popping the question to her. And she'd say yes, too. Another one bites the dust.

 

Yeah, I was bitter. Every wedding celebration has to have the bitter guy over in the corner and that was me. So I did what any bitter single guy at a wedding would do. I attempted to drink myself stupid. Worked for the most part, too.

 

When Rufus decided to leave around one in the morning, the crowd was thinning, but still respectable. Rufus gave Rude a nod as we headed out the door and the big guy nodded in return before heading back into the room to actually spend some time with is girl. I was drunk enough by then to feel bad for my partner – working when there'd been a better offer. I suppose I could have offered to take his job, but I hadn't out of spite most likely. We parted ways with Elena and Tseng at the door, Tseng not liking the look of how toasted I was but content that I could protect Rufus if I had to. Not like Rufus was a helpless baby, but Tseng's a hard-ass about that stuff.

 

The chauffeur brought the limo up and I shot the breeze with him while we took the trophy date home. Once she was deposited safely within her house, Rufus returned and requested that I move to the back to discuss some stupid trumped up shit that meant he wanted to talk to me and maybe get a blow job.

 

With the car in motion back to Healin Lodge, Rufus looked away from the scenery and crossed his ankles in front of him. “I'm genuinely sorry you did not win the young Princess's affections.”

 

I rolled my eyes and stared out the window. I wasn't drunk enough to have this conversation with him.

 

“Perhaps now you can turn your attention back to where it is always welcome.”

 

I pulled one leg up, resting my foot on the seat. I hated his voice right then. So smooth, deep, like dark water. I hated how right he was, hated how he was always so fucking patient. Always waited. Never not there after some stupid wandering stunt of mine.

 

“Reno.”

 

Damnit. Why didn't he demand? Ask? Beg? ORDER? But no, Rufus never did any of that. He was always so careful to not judge or mock after I'd been stupid. For years, he'd just been level, steady. Loving it when I was there, pretending to not mind when I wasn't and always saint-like waiting for me to come back.

 

The car purred on over the landscape and we lapsed into a comfortable silence. I wondered if I would ever grow up enough to give anybody what they wanted.


	37. Rud - 37

Four-thirty in the morning is an obscene hour. Not the good kind of obscene either. The bad kind where there is no coffee, the bagels are stale, and the bacon is soggy. The only thing worse than four-thirty is three forty-five.

 

Three forty-four is when I woke up. Well, at least when I was with Tifa that's the time I woke up. If my alarm went off, I would wake her and everyone else in the house up. It's bad enough that I still sometimes woke up Denzel. Kid was s a light sleeper but I still felt bad about it. At least now he didn't always come and investigate who was moving around.

 

Showered and half-dressed, I eased back into her room and clicked on the tiny lamp on her dresser. I finished up, the buckle of my belt being the loudest thing in the room. That still caused Tifa to stir, though. I looped my tie and tightened it as I approached her side of the bed and knelt down.

 

She groaned when I brushed a stray hair off her face. “Already?”

 

“Yeah.” Leaning over, I pressed a kiss on her forehead before she rolled and I was able to brush the next across her lips.

 

She sighed, “Do you _have_ to go? Really?” Not waiting for me to answer she shook her head and said, “Ignore me. I'm being very selfish.”

 

Resting an elbow on the edge of the bed, I slipped my other hand under the sheet and blankets to rub over her stomach. “No you're not,” I whispered, kissing her again. She purred and stretched, her arm snaking out of under the sheets to wrap around my neck and pull me closer.

 

“Tifa,” I warned in an undertone and she grumbled. It really was unfair in a lot of ways. I could give her two nights a week and occasionally a third, but it wasn't enough for either of us. Nobody had the right answer to the very large question of what to do about that.

 

She did not let go which was exactly what happened every morning that I had to leave like this. “Just once, Rude. Just once make them wait.”

 

She wasn't begging and that sucked. If she had been, I might have been able to resist her. Probably not, but it was nice to think that I could have. The reality of the situation was that she had me wrapped around her little finger and her smallest desires were as good as orders to me.

 

Fortunately, I was in no danger of getting fired for being late.

 

Even sleep-weak and wobbling on her knees at the edge of her bed, her fingers made quick work of my tie while my hand tangled roughly in her hair, waking her completely. Awake, she could get through buttons, belt buckle and my fly faster than I could.

 

And all I had to do was just enjoy the sight of her in the weak lamplight while she stripped me. Her skin flushed, red marks from my teeth tucked in the sweetest-tasting spots – the rise of her collarbone, the hollow of her hip, her inner thigh.

 

“Get your gloves,” she breathed, a wicked smile playing across her face as her hands played over my skin.

 

I turned and snatched my gloves off the bedside table. She wrapped her arms around my neck and kissed me once, long and hard before pulling me back on to the bed with her. As we went down, she wrapped her foot behind my knee and flipped me on to my back. I laughed and she silenced me with a rough kiss, her tongue warring with mine while my gloved hands tangled into her hair and roamed, hungry and demanding over her curves.

 

“Shhh,” she scolded, sitting back and grinding her hot cunt against me before grabbing my cock and guiding it into her. She slid down slowly, taunting me with a lick of her lips and a smirk.

 

As if there was any way I could be silent with her riding me like we had all day long. “You keep that up and this'll be over way before you're ready for it to be,” I warned her, leaving marks that would purple up in an hour on her hips and thighs. My attempts to speed the swing of her hips were futile, she was unwilling to do anything more than torment me this morning.

 

And she was good at tormenting. A master of the art. The arch of her back and ripple of her abs alone could send me into desperation but coupled with the fire of her tight little pussy around my cock, I was coming undone. The weight of her breasts in my hands was exhilarating and the sight of her, skin prickling in the cool air of the room contrasted with the flush of sex over her chest and neck.

 

I was nothing to her everything. She rolled her hips, leaning over to change up angles and sink her teeth into my lower lip before fucking my mouth with her tongue again. I caught her by her hair, holding her near enough to feel the steam of her breath on my face as she buried me balls deep into her over and over, her pace quickening wildly from a slow torture to trained professional.

 

“Who's little whore are you?” I asked her through gritted teeth, my grip on her hair tightening.

 

Her mouth open, sweat beading on her forehead as she slammed her body against mine, desperate now for her own release she panted out, “Yours, only yours.”

 

Her voice pitched higher on the last word and she moaned, grabbing one of my arms and tearing my hand from her hair. A string of choked sounds started to fall from her lips and she sank her teeth into my leather-clad thumb to bite back the sound.

 

Her voice and the constricting muscle of her orgasm, coupled with her hand suddenly braced against my throat sent me over the top, my pelvis thrusting up hard to meet hers, my own gasp cut off by a sharp decrease in oxygen.

 

She shook, teeth sharp even through my glove, her voice still humming through flesh and bone. I was not the only one who left marks and the band that seemed to perpetually reside around my thumb was a beautiful reminder of where my heart belonged. As she stilled on top of me, I released her hair and she slid, limp and smiling, to one side, her fingers trailing over my tattoos.

 

She shivered and I turned, wrapping my arms around her and pulling her close while I pressed a kiss to her temple. She nestled under my chin and curled up, content and warmed for the moment. She hummed a little and kissed the center of my chest.

 

After several minutes, she shivered again, this time harder. I reached for the blankets only to find them in a bunch at the foot of the bed. Coaxing her into letting me go, I bent to collect them, grazing my lips over her thigh as I went. She giggled at the touch and as I pulled the quilt up over her, temptation hit me.

 

I was already miserably late, so what different would a little longer make? I dropped the quilt and swiveled back to her, giving her hip a push to roll her from her side to her back. Settling myself between her legs, I nudged them apart and lifted an eyebrow at her.

 

To her responding wide-eyed smile, I shrugged and said, “There's more than one way to warm up, Tifa.”

 

Her laugh turned quickly into a sigh that changed to a gasp as I took her warm, wet clit into my mouth and sucked hard on it, flicking my tongue over the tip. She balled her hands into a pillow and smashed it over her face as I carefully worked two gloved fingers deep inside her, holding her in place with my free hand. She fought hard against my restraining hand, muscular thighs and back thrusting forward in what little room I allowed.

 

I matched the paces of my fingers with the rotation of my tongue against her throbbing clit, my mouth taking in as much of her as it would cover, drinking in her salty-sweet desire like a dying man. It did not take long before her second orgasm broke over her, the pillow doing as much to quiet her as my hand was able to do holding her still through it.

 

Which was next to nothing.

 

“Oh Shiva,” she cursed, caught in that awful place of hearing one of the kids moving down the hall and not being able to move. I made quick work of tossing the quilt over us and assuming my position of chief cuddler, while feigning sleep as best I could with a smirk of satisfaction on my face.

 

A little knock on the door and an inquiry if she was all right was answered with the blushing lie of her having had a bad dream. She assured her charge that all was well and small feet retreated back the way they had come. I smothered my laughter in the pillow that had failed her and she smacked me in the head with the other.


End file.
